Elementary My Dear Conan
by Hung Nguyen
Summary: -CC:SH 22nd Century crossover- Conan Edogawa has always idolized Sherlock Holmes and uses him as inspiration in his detective work. However, Sherlock is only a fictional character and they could never meet... could they?
1. Chapter 1: Idol

**ELEMENTARY, MY DEAR CONAN**

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century and Detective Conan all belong to their own respective creators. If you can't deduce that I'm only using their characters to write a story clearly for entertainment purposes, then you should leave the detective work to the detectives. I'll be using the English version of Detective Conan (Case Closed) for ease of writing.

Note: This story takes place sometime after the episode of The Missing Melody and the end of the short-lived second season of SH22.

**Chapter 1**

**Idol**

Conan's world, present day Japan...

In his room at the Moore Detective Agency, which was also the Moore family residence, Conan sighed as he looked over his personal journal. Ever since he had been turned into a child, he had been keeping a record of his cases as the unknown detective genius, and reason behind Richard Moore's recent rise to fame in the crime-solving world. At times, it made him frustrated that Rachael's father always took the credit for all of Conan's hard work.

It wasn't that Conan had anything personal against Richard. Rachael's father wasn't a half-bad sleuth. He had been trained by the police academy and his eye for detail was a bit above average, but he had several flaws. One, he was a letch and was easily distracted by pretty faces and figures. Two, he had a problem with connecting certain details of a crime scene, and their significance. From his past experiences, Conan felt that Richard usually _EXPECTED_ the clues to fall right into his lap. His newfound fame had given him quite the bloated ego.

His final flaw was that he _NEVER_ questioned the fact that he was always fuzzy on remembering _HOW_ he had been able to solve the difficult cases. He would always black out, then awake to find the case solved and he was credited with catching the perpetrator. Surrounded by adoring fans and awestruck colleagues, Moore simply went with the flow, believing in the lie of his great genius.

Conan sighed. It was very hard to endure, but he had no choice. As the teenage detective prodigy Jimmy Kudo, he would have had no problem in presenting the solved cases himself, but as Conan Etigawa, he had to use Richard as a front to catch the criminals. No one ever took a small boy seriously. With the help of a drug-firing wristwatch and a bowtie voice emulator (courtesy of Dr. Agasa), he'd knock out Moore and impersonate him in order to unravel the bad guys' plans.

As he continued to review his journal, he looked out of his bedroom door and saw the love of his life as she went about dusting the apartment. How desperately he had wanted to tell her the truth, but he couldn't risk it. That crime organization that had slipped him that experimental drug and turned him into a kid was still out there. He had foiled their plans before, and if they knew that their poison had failed to silence him, then they would come after him, and the Moore family would be in serious danger.

After Jimmy Kudo had seemingly vanished, Rachael had been getting more depressed as of late, and Conan couldn't blame her. He could remember how happy she had been after winning that martial arts tournament and that date they had shared, before he had run afoul of those bastards who had trapped him in his present body. Now he had to live the lie that he was a distant relative of himself, while trying to find a way to get his real body back.

He wasn't certain how much longer he could continue to deceive her. Rachael had a keen mind of her own, and one time, she nearly found out his secret. And she was very determined to find Jimmy. Those rare appearances over the phone and such were not going to satisfy her forever. Conan shuddered when he remembered when she had him trapped in that bathroom and after that case with the computer expert. (1)

How he hated to see her so sad, but until he found a way to get back to the way he was, things would have to remain as they were. However, Conan knew that someday he would achieve his goal and be reunited with his love. As he always believed, with a keen eye for detail, one truth will prevail.

Thinking about his motto, he decided to enjoy rereading one of his favorite books, and went over to his dresser drawer. Pulling out a volume from his collection of Sir Arthur Doyle's works, he smiled as he read out loud, the lead character's words...

* * *

Sherlock Holmes' world, New London in the 22nd Century....

"When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable it might seem, _MUST_ be the truth." The detective simply stated as the criminal was being taken away by the police. Beside him was his trusted aide, the compu-droid known as Watson, as well as Inspector Beth Lastrade and the Irregulars, Deidre, Tennyson and Wiggins.

Chief Inspector Grayson was still unconvinced at how Holmes had deduced the identity of the thief, and demanded that he explain. "What rubbish is this?! How can be the victim be the thief?"

Holmes smiled in his usual manner as he educated the good head of New Scotland Yard. "Simple observation and deduction, my dear Grayson. Eyes and brains. The thief knew the exact code and location of Mr. Grandel's safe, as well as the layout of the property. If the thief had been a complete stranger, then the sentinel robots would have attacked him. However, they didn't. My associate Watson had confirmed this when he scanned their memory banks."

The compu-droid with the elasto-mask nodded. "Indeed. I had looked into the robots' CPUs and found no record of anyone ever entering the house during last night's robbery, other than Mr. Grandel himself."

"But he claimed that the thief had used an ion disrupter rifle to disrupt their circuitry and erased their memories! We found the weapon at the scene of the crime! The DNA found on it belonged to Grandel's assistant Myler. He has to be the criminal!"

"Quite impossible, Inspector Grayson." Holmes said simply. "As you may recall, the sentinel robots were equipped with shielded circuit panels to insulate their CPUs from the disrupting fields of the security grids. It would take a very high-powered disrupter rifle to penetrate such protection, and the outdated model we found at the crime scene, would have NOT been sufficient. The only way the thief could have gotten past the sentinel robots, was if he had their deactivation codes, as well as the codes for the security grids and safe. And who else could get through all that so quickly, other than the one person who possessed such knowledge?"

"So what you're saying is that the rifle was left there to throw the suspicion off of Grandel and place the blame on to his assistant Myler, who happened to be a gun hobbyist?" Lastrade asked.

"Very good, Lastrade." Holmes said as he continued. "Grandel had decided to have Myler take the blame, by stealing a rifle from his collection and planting it at the scene of the crime. He made certain that none of his DNA could be found on the weapon, but he neglected to do the same when he inserted the power cell. Since Myler keeps all of his rifles un-powered, it would have made no sense to leave a useless weapon at the crime scene. Grandel did not think that anyone would even consider checking the rifle's components for DNA. Normally, forensics would only scan the surface of a weapon and perhaps the ammunition, while inner mechanisms are ignored. However, when our young friend Tennyson had decided to scan the entire weapon, he found two sets of DNA. The majority had belonged to Myler and the most recent DNA traces were Grandel's, specifically the power cell. That is solid proof that Grandel was the last person to have held the rifle."

"Then why did he go through all that trouble to steal those artifacts and place the blame on Myler?" Grayson demanded. "Those artifacts are nearly impossible to sell on the black market. Who would buy them?"

"Who, indeed." Sherlock said as he put in the final nail in Grandel's coffin. "Your answer can found in the records that Wiggins and Deidre had discovered in Grandel's office. At first, I was puzzled as to why he would keep a list of the most prominent research facilities in the world. Then Tennyson came across an article of the rare element tryserium, and how some researchers would pay any price for it, no matter how small the amount. After having Watson scan the safe again, he found trace signs of tryserium, which was hidden from preliminary scans by the disruption fields."

"So the artifacts contained some tryserium and he was intending to sell it to some unscrupulous buyer, right?"

"Correct Lastrade. During the initial scans, Grandel had discovered that the artifacts had been constructed from meteor fragments that had contained tryserium. He kept this information from his assistant, hoping to later profit from it." The nineteenth century detective stated. "In addition to the profit he would have made from the sale, he would have also collected a hefty amount from the insurance, once he filed for the 'loss' of the artifacts. His own greed caused his downfall, when he tried to place the blame on Myler."

* * *

221B Baker Street...

"I must say, that you solved that case in almost no time at all, Holmes." Watson said as he served Sherlock a cup of tea. The famous detective was sitting in his favorite easy chair and contemplating in front of the fire.

"Yes, but I cannot take full credit for this. The Irregulars were most instrumental in gathering the information that I needed. I must say, that those youths show great potential as detectives, and it does my heart good to see such potential develop. Ah, if only more youths would follow their example and use their eyes and their brains."

* * *

Conan's world...

"So what did you want to see me about?" Conan asked as he entered Dr. Agasa's laboratory.

"Ah, Jimmy! Good to see you!" Dr. Agasa smiled as he welcomed the youth. "I've just about finished with the modifications to your skateboard. I've now implanted the new power cell you wanted to give you that extra boost."

"Thanks Dr. Agasa." Conan said as he took the device into his arms and looked at it. "So this skateboard will work even at night?"

"That's right, and it will even function during cloudy days and rain. Normally, it will still run on solar power, but when the sun isn't out, it will switch to the backup battery, and keep going for another 4 hours or so. Just remember to plug it in, to recharge the power cell every 24 hours after usage."

"What kind of battery does it run on?"

"Ah, it's a brand new kind of magnetic field energy cell, which I have just developed. Unlike normal alkaline batteries and such, it does not degrade as fast and will operate for more than ten years with regular recharging. I am quite certain that it will help you in your detective work."

"Thanks Dr. Agasa. I can't wait to try it out."

* * *

Sherlock's world...

"Sorry to call you so early to New Scotland Yard, but I'm afraid that we must get your official statement for the records." Lastrade said as she met Holmes and Watson.

"No trouble at all, Inspector." Holmes assured. "I am well used to these proceedings by now, and besides, I would like to see this rare element that Grandel wanted to steal. I hear that the tryserium has already been extracted from the artifacts and will be sent to a top-security research facility."

"How did you know about... oh never mind. I should be used to your knowing before I did. This way Holmes."

Sherlock and Watson followed Lestrade to the research lab where the element was being stored until it would be delivered to the proper people. Hovering over a magnetic field projector, a small lump of blue crystal floated in midair. It was no larger than a golf ball, but it contained enough potential energy to light up New London for a year. Scientists and security guards milled about as the detective and his associates came close to the tryserium and gazed upon it.

"So this is what caused all the trouble. Doesn't look like much does it?" Lastrade commented.

Sherlock nodded as he suddenly began tensing up. "In my experience, looks can be quite deceiving. This rare and valuable element has already caused much trouble to many people, and I fear that the trouble is not yet over."

The Inspector became a bit worried. Whenever spoke in that tone, then things were about to get serious. "What are you talking about? We caught the thief and retrieved the tryserium. Case closed."

"Yes, we caught the thief, but the mastermind still remains... and is here!" Sherlock whirled around and pointed to a janitor who was mopping the floor close by. "Wouldn't you agree, Moriarty?"

Those present in the laboratory gasped as Holmes' greatest adversary ripped off his elasto-mask and took out an ionizer. He snarled as he directed his weapon at his foe and fired. This caused people to scatter and duck for cover. From a hidden panel in the ceiling, Moriarty's henchman Fenwick appeared and began tossing gas grenades, knocking out the security guards as his master headed toward the tryserium.

However, he was intercepted by Holmes as the detective used his retractable cane to knock the ionizer out of the villain's hand. The two grappled with each other as Watson and Lastrade dealt with Fenwick.

"How did you know?" Moriarty demanded as he continued to battle his equal.

Holmes smiled as he forced Moriarty back. "This whole case reeked of your work. I had Watson do a little background check on Grandel and learned that a mysterious benefactor had supplied him with a very expensive scanner; one that could detect the tryserium in the artifacts among the other metals. You suspected that the tryserium was there and knew that Grandel would try to steal it and sell it to the highest bidder. You then planned to double-cross Grandel and take the tryserium for your own dark deeds. As for how I knew you were here, it was quite simple. Since when is a low-level janitor able to mop the floor in a high-security lab during regular hours?"

"You will not stop me this time, Holmes!" The angry criminal genius cried out as the two came dangerously close to the magnetic field projector.

"_HOLMES!_" Watson cried out as he witnessed the two about to fall against the projector. In desperation, he ran toward them, took aim with his stunner and fired at Moriarty. However, his intended target turned about and the beam struck the projector. As a result, the protective magnetic field was deactivated and the energy contained within the tryserium was unleashed. Moriarty broke loose and backpedaled, just as Watson reached Holmes. The two were bathed in an eerie light and vanished from sight. A moment later, the tiny crystal broke apart and disintegrated.

Seeing that his prize was gone and his greatest foe was seemingly gone for good, Moriarty decided that he should take his leave. Using this opportunity and employed a smoke bomb to make his escape.

Lastrade coughed a bit after getting caught in the cloud of smoke. She had just cuffed Fenwick, and was about to aid Watson and Holmes against Moriarty, when the sudden flash from the tryserium had blinded her. When her vision cleared, she saw that Sherlock Holmes and Watson were gone.

* * *

Conan's world...

Conan was impressed that the skateboard was riding well, even though the sun had gone down an hour ago. As he headed home, he began to think about his current situation and wondered what to do about it. Then he chuckled a bit as he wondered what his idol Sherlock Holmes would do.

At that moment, a flash appeared before him, temporarily blinding him and causing him to lose control of the skateboard. He fell forward and braced for impact against the ground. He instead bumped into something large and metallic. He looked up and saw a portly face with a beard and a monocle. On his head was a derby. He was dressed in a kind of trench coat.

"Oh my. Are you all right, young man?"

"Uh... I'm okay. I'm sorry about bumping into... " Conan replied as he stepped back and looked up at Watson, then noticed another figure standing behind the person he had run into. His eyes widened as he saw a tall Englishman who was wearing a dress suit, tie, deerskin coat, hunter's cap, and carrying a cane. His features were sharp and chiseled, with a sophisticated air about him.

Conan rubbed his eyes in disbelief, then reached into his backpack. He pulled out a book and looked at the picture on the inside cover. Then he looked up at the stranger, then back down at the book, then did two more double takes. Amazingly, this person looked exactly like...

"You... you're...."

The detective smiled down at the child, then noted the book in his hands. He gave the youth a slight bow and said, "Sherlock Holmes, at your service."

To be continued....

Author's Notes

I recently started watching the original series of Detective Conan on DVD as well as the Case Closed series on Cartoon Network and I often wondered what would happen if Jimmy/Conan were to meet with Sherlock Holmes. Now of course, Sherlock is purely a fictional character in Conan's world, but then I remembered an old show that's still on TV called Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century, which is now on DVD.

As for where this could go, well it wouldn't be unrealistic for Sherlock to figure out Conan's secret and maybe even help him with his problem. With access to 22nd Century technology, Jimmy just might be able to make a return. I can see these two minds working together and solving cases and whatnot.

In any case, this will be my newest Non-Ranma project and I think I could go with this. What do you readers think?

(1) Seen in the Deadly Game and the Computer Murder Case episodes.


	2. Chapter 2: I Don’t Believe You!

**ELEMENTARY, MY DEAR CONAN**

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century and Detective Conan (Case Closed), belong to their respective creators and one should never assume that I am writing this fanfic for anything other than enjoyment.

: Thoughts

**Chapter 2**

**I Don't Believe You!**

"You... you can't be Sherlock Holmes!" Conan Edogawa stuttered, as he continued to stare up at the person whom he had admired since his childhood, (relatively speaking).

The famous detective continued to smile as he looked down at the wide-eyed youth. "Oh? And tell me why I couldn't be anyone other than who I am?"

"Because Sherlock Holmes is make-believe! See?" Conan held up the book in his hands.

Sherlock nodded as he read out loud the title. "The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I remember that case." He then turned to Watson. "I think it would be safe to say that we are no longer in New London of the 22nd Century, or even our own world. It appears that we have somehow been transported to an alternate Earth, a place in which we, do not exist except as characters of fiction. Apparently, the time period is around the late 20th century, perhaps even during the first few years of the 21st. I believe we are in Japan. Extraordinary."

"My word, Holmes! How did you deduce all of that from just reading the title of a book?" The compu-droid asked.

"Eyes and brains, my dear Watson. Take a good look at our surroundings. You will note that the architecture is not of the time period we are from, but from the previous centuries. There are signs in Kanji and this boy is obviously of Japanese decent. I am fluent in the language. He claims that I am just a character in a book, which he holds in his hands. We have cars rather than hovercraft and you will note that our young friend here was riding a skateboard, rather than the hoverboards that the Irregulars favor, though I am a bit curious that he is using a solar-powered board with an internal motor."

"How did you know it was solar-powered?" Conan asked.

Holmes pointed with his cane. "These light-absorbing panels. And since you were riding it at night, I can also deduce that it must have some sort of backup battery. You were traveling at considerable speed, when you bumped into Watson; far faster than your legs could propel you, so that means that this board has an internal motor." He turned back to Watson. "As for the rest of my deductions, Watson, this book details a previous case during my first life, and since this boy claims that I am only a fictional character, then I must conclude that this is _NOT_ our world, but rather an alternate one, where we do not exist."

"An alternate world?"

"It is the only logical theory. I surmise that the tryserium explosion must have somehow transported us to this reality. I remember Tennyson reading an article on nuclear physics about the possibilities of alternate universes, each with their own parallel Earth. Each Earth occupying the same space, but vibrating at a different rate. The tryserium must have accidentally matched frequencies with this world and pulled us through."

"Astounding!" Watson remarked.

"You got to be kidding!" Conan said with disbelief. "Alternate worlds? The Twenty-Second Century? That's science-fiction!"

Sherlock chuckled a bit. "To you, it may be science-fiction, but to us, it is science _FACT_. Watson, could you please take off your coat?"

The compu-droid did so, revealing his metallic body and further shocking Conan. He then put it back on as Holmes explained.

"My associate is a highly advanced, police compu-droid, and he is far more sophisticated than any robot of this particular time period. I also possess certain devices that can further prove my claim that we are from an alternate future, but that will be for a later time. As of now, our most important issue is to decide what to do at this moment."

"I would think that we should find a way to get back home." Watson said simply.

"Indeed. And I believe that our young friend may be of assistance to us." The detective gestured to Conan. "After all, if he has access to a relatively advanced skateboard, then surely he must know of a very capable scientist. Science is what brought us here and science may be what we need to return back to our proper place in the space-time continuum."

Conan gulped a bit as Holmes knelt down and his face became level with his, making him feel even smaller than he already was. The detective continued to smile as he gazed into Conan's eyes and could detect a very bright and sharp intelligence.

"What is your name, lad?"

"Uh... Conan... Conan Edogawa."

At that moment, the diminutive sleuth now knew what Richard felt whenever he was facing his favorite pop idol.

* * *

Later...

Conan _STILL_ couldn't believe that he was actually walking with Sherlock Holmes. He wondered if he was dreaming and hoped that if he was, he wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Holmes emitted a kind of presence that was undeniable. He was exactly as Conan had imagined him to be every time he read those books. As he led the Holmes and Watson to Dr. Agasa's lab, he couldn't stop asking the detective questions.

"I thought that you and Moriarty died at the Richen Bach Falls. I mean, that's what the last book said. I mean, if you really are Sherlock Holmes then..."

"I assure you that I am Sherlock Holmes, and my supposed demise in the Swiss Alps had been greatly exaggerated." Holmes stated. "To answer your question, yes Moriarty and I did go over the Richen Bach Falls, but I did _NOT_ hit the bottom, thanks to a mighty pine that was but a sapling back then..."

* * *

Flashback...

Holmes and Moriarty were falling down towards the bottom of the gorge, but Holmes managed to grab hold of a small pine tree that overlooked an outcropping of rock. He also manages to grab hold of Moriarty with his other hand and his arch-enemy found himself one handgrip away from death.

"Hold... on!" Sherlock gasped as he tried to pull himself and Moriarty to safety, but his strength was failing. Then Moriarty let off a horrified scream as he lost his grip and continued to fall. His body disappears in the falls below. (1) Sherlock could only watch helplessly as his archenemy plunged to what appeared to be his doom.

* * *

End of Flashback...

"That tree saved my life." Holmes finished and looked upon the wide-eyed expression on Conan's face.

"But how did you end up in the 22nd Century?" The one who was Jimmy Kuno asked.

"Ah, that story can be attributed to the reappearance of my old foe Moriarty, and a descendant of an old acquaintance of mine... from Scotland Yard."

"Lastrade?"

"Oh my! How did you guess, young Conan?" Watson asked.

Now it was Conan's turn to play the part of the detective as he replied. "To paraphrase Sherlock, I didn't guess... I deduced. I've read every one of Doyle's books and the character of Lastrade is frequently mentioned, since he and Holmes didn't get along very well at times. I noticed that Sherlock was a little uneasy mentioning this other person in Scotland Yard, and according to the books, only Lastrade ever made him that irritated at times, though they both respected each other."

Holmes could only chuckle at Conan's insight and remarked, "There we have it, Watson. A prime example of using one's eyes and brains. Very good, Conan my boy. I may just have found a worthy rival in you."

Conan couldn't help but feel satisfied as he was being recognized for his detective skills. To hear this praise from his idol made him feel even more pride.

When they arrived at Dr. Agasa's laboratory, Conan walked up to the door and knocked on it. He then waited for it to open while speaking to his idol and his associate. "I've got to warn you that Dr. Agasa's a bit eccentric and it's going to take some time to convince him that you're... well... no offense, but I still can't... believe that you're... I mean... I _WANT_ to, but..."

"It is all right, Conan. I understand." Sherlock assured as the door opened and the quirky, but brilliant scientist smiled as he greeted Conan.

"Ah, Jimmy! What brings you back here? Did the skateboard work all right? And...?"

Conan was wildly waving his hands and motioning toward Sherlock and Watson. "_DR. AGASA!_ Shhhhhhh!"

At that moment, Dr. Agasa noticed the two and remembered himself. Laughing nervously, he tried to save the situation. He scratched the back of his head and said, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry Conan, I thought you were someone else and..."

Sherlock simply put out his hand. Dr. Agasa grasped it and shook it while Holmes responded, "Tut, tut, no need to apologize my dear fellow. I can understand that you've been preoccupied, especially after several hours of writing notes. I hope that we did not disturb you too much during your meal of chow mein and broccoli? And how is your current chemical experiment coming along? I trust that your feet are holding up?"

These statements caught Agasa by total surprise. He pulled back his hand as he asked, "But... how did you know all of that?"

"Simple observation and deduction, Dr. Agasa. I used my eyes and my brains." Sherlock gestured first at the left sleeve of the scientist's lab coat. "This sleeve is smooth on the underside, as if ironed, yet your other sleeve is more wrinkled. That indicates that your arm has been moving about continuously across a flat surface, possibly a desk or table. I also noticed that you have some ink staining the cuff of that sleeve, which means that is the hand that you write with. There's a chow mein noodle on your left shoe, and there's a piece of broccoli stuck on the underside of your mustache." The scientist quickly wiped away the food particle as Holmes then gestured toward Agasa's feet. "The chemicals have caused the soles of your shoes to become slightly discolored and started to eat away at the leather, which I imagine is causing much discomfort to your feet. I also heard the sound of your footsteps when you came to the door, which were plodding a bit and slow of pace. Therefore, I deduced that you were either tired or in pain. After seeing your shoes, I can understand why."

Conan let off a low whistle of awe. If this person wasn't Sherlock Holmes, then he was a _DAMNED_ good impersonator. Richard Moore was nothing but a two-bit gumshoe next to him.

As for Sherlock, he was used to such reactions after displaying his deductive skills, but he was a bit intrigued at Conan's reaction at being addressed as 'Jimmy' and decided that there was more than meets the eye with the youth. He had already displayed a kind of intelligence that went beyond his seemingly young appearance. He filed that little detail away for later as he and Watson were invited into the laboratory.

* * *

Later...

As expected, Dr. Agasa did not believe that Conan's new friend was actually Sherlock Holmes and that he and Watson were from the 22nd Century, let alone from another reality all together. However, after Watson had shown himself without his trench coat, it wasn't long before the scientist was poking about the compu-droid's circuitry, much to the dismay of Sherlock's associate.

"See here, my good man! I allowed you to have a gander at my inner workings to prove that we are from the year 2105, but I take great offense at your constant prodding at my circuitry and mechanisms!" With those words, Watson immediately shut the front access panel in his chest, nearly cutting off the tips of Agasa's fingers as he pulled his hand away.

"Oh please! Just a few more minutes!" The scientist pleaded. "I've never seen such intricate engineering! Are you powered by a thermoelectric battery of some sort?"

"I am most certainly not driven by such primitive means! I happen to rely on a Mark VII neo-proton core and..."

"THAT will be quite enough, Watson." Sherlock interjected before the argument escalated. He then addressed Dr. Agasa in a more serious tone. "Now then Dr. Agasa, with all the proof that we have presented, do you now accept the fact that we are telling the truth?"

"Well, I must admit that I did have my doubts, but I cannot deny that you are in possession of some extraordinary technology, which is far beyond anything I've ever seen. Now that business about you being from an alternate world is harder to swallow, but you _SEEM_ like the Sherlock Holmes that I've read in books. But in any case, why did you come to me?"

"I would think that you would have ascertained the reason behind our visit, but I will elucidate." Holmes said. "We need to return to our own time and place, but we have no technical means to do so, nor do we know of anyone with any considerable scientific knowledge in this time period. When we first met young Conan here, I noted the sophistication of his skateboard and deduced that he knew of someone with impressive engineering ability."

"Ah, thank you, but I'm afraid that I cannot help you. Inter-dimensional time travel is beyond my expertise, but I _MAY_ know of some colleagues of mine, who might be able to assist you. However, it will be difficult to reach them as most of them are in high-security positions and it will be harder to convince them of your story. Perhaps if I were to show them Watson..."

"That would be most difficult and dangerous." Sherlock interjected. "We have taken quite a risk in showing you 22nd Century technology. Think of the kind of repercussions of showing others. An unscrupulous individual would not hesitate to use such technology to further his own selfish ambitions and endanger others in the process."

Agasa had to agree with Holmes. People such as the Black Organization that had changed Jimmy Kudo into Conan Edogawa would certainly use such technology to further their evil crimes. Still, he couldn't let such advanced science just slip away without studying it, if only to learn the principles behind it. He has also noticed how Jimmy acted around Sherlock and could understand how he admired the detective.

"It appears that we're stuck, Holmes." Watson admitted as he got up from Agasa's worktable, then put on his elasto-mask.

Standing nearby, Conan looked on in fascination at how realistic the mask made the robot's face appear as the original John Watson's. A large part of him wanted to desperately believe that this stranger was actually _THE_ Sherlock Holmes. He could just imagine what he could learn from the great detective. Maybe he could even help him in finding the ones who had turned him into a kid.

At the moment, Sherlock paced the room, as he considered all of his options, and came to only viable course of action. He turned back to Watson.

"What are we going to do, Holmes?"

"It seems that we have no choice, but to acclimate ourselves to this new time period and society. At least for the time being, until we can find some way to return home. First on the agenda, is to find a place to stay and set up a base of operations." He then turned to Conan. "Would you happen to know of any domiciles that are currently vacant and open for rent?"

"Uh, yeah I do, but if you really are telling the truth, I can't see how you could pay for anything or..."

"Tut, tut, young Conan. I assure you that Watson and I are quite capable of fending for ourselves and you needn't worry about us. Now then, where may we find suitable living quarters?"

* * *

Yet later again...

In a distant urban region of Tokyo, Sherlock and Watson looked about the modest apartment that they had just rented and noted its plain, empty appearance.

"Not exactly 221B Baker Street, but it will suffice." Sherlock remarked.

"Yes, but I must say that I am somewhat concerned about our present state of finances and such." Watson admitted. "Young Conan did raise a valid point and we have no access to our assets in the 22nd Century. According to what I've already gathered from the local Internet systems, (a primitive network I must say), apparently, this world still utilizes physical currency and monetary units, unlike the system of credits that we are used to. Furthermore, the landlord of this tenant building, demands that we pay this month's rent by the end of the week. How are we to accomplish this task, let alone earn enough to live on?"

"Minor details, Watson." Sherlock shrugged as he held up a newspaper he had gotten from Dr. Agasa. "Every journey to success starts with but a single step." He then pointed to an article in the want ads, which clearly stated a need for a private investigator, plus details on what the client required.

* * *

The next day...

"I can't believe this!" Richard Moore griped as he came home from what should have been a sure thing.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Rachael asked as she was busy preparing dinner. Sitting nearby, watching the evening news, Conan listened in on their conversation.

"The Tsaska family turned me down, _ME!_ And on top of that, someone else solved the crime already!"

"Tsaska?" Conan asked as his curiosity was piqued. They were among the wealthiest families in Japan and had just recently suffered a death in the family, specifically the previous head of the clan, Morishimo Tsaska. The sudden death had been under mysterious circumstances and even the police had been baffled. Since then, the family had been advertising for a private investigator to find the truth about the crime, while offering a huge reward. Many had applied for the case, but all had been turned down, since they did not meet the high standards of what they wanted in a detective.

The case had been a perplexing one and seemed to be unsolvable. Richard Moore had thought that his brilliant mind could unravel the case, but when he came to offer his services, the current head of the family simply turned his nose up at him and called him nothing but a cheap gumshoe, who couldn't find a criminal in a prison. Then he shocked him by telling him that the case had already been solved by a _REAL_ detective.

This had gotten Richard's temper boiling. Didn't they know about him? He was Richard Moore, private investigator extraordinaire! No case was too tough for him to solve! Even that snot-nosed punk Jimmy Kudo couldn't hold a candle to him! Wherever he was!"

Richard was still brooding as Conan came up to him and asked, "So who solved the case, Richard?"

The angry investigator snarled a bit as he replied. "It was just some nobody private eye that just got lucky! This nut even called himself Sherlock Holmes! What a load of baloney!"

Conan gasped as he heard the name, then heard the latest news story as the reporter spoke with Inspector McGuire and the current head of the Tsaska family, Hiro. He, Rachael and Richard listened intently.

"So your great-grandfather's killer has finally been brought to justice!" The reporter declared.

Hiro Tsaska nodded as he watched the police take away his twin brother. "I would have never thought my own brother Akira was the killer. But Sherlock Holmes found him out the moment he came into my office. It was a good thing too, because Akira was about to kill me too! It was amazing!"

"Excuse me, but did you say Sherlock Holmes?" The reporter asked.

"It's probably just an alias the detective used." Inspector McGuire said. "He most likely had a reason to keep his real name a secret. After all, we all know that Sherlock Holmes isn't a real person. No more questions now. The criminal has to be processed and you'll all get the full details later."

The reporter nodded as she addressed the camera. "And there you have it, folks. It seems that a mysterious new player has entered the detective world and may just give our local legends Richard Moore and the absent teen sleuth Jimmy Kudo, a run for their money. He certainly made quite an entrance, by solving one of the most perplexing of cases, and netting the biggest fee ever to be awarded to one investigator..."

Richard shut off the television set in disgust and angrily slammed down the remote on the table, causing Conan to be startled.

"That was supposed to be _MY_ case! It's not fair! I'm the best detective there is and some nobody comes out of the blue and steals my fame and glory! That reward was supposed to have been mine!"

Conan gave Rachael's father a bit of a doubtful look, and thought to himself. _Once again, I wonder just what kind of fame and glory you had to steal in the first place, Old Timer. But I'm more concerned about this guy who says he's really Sherlock Holmes. The fact that he solved a case that even had me stumped, says a lot about his detective skills. Well, I guess I'm just going to have to wait and see what happens next._

* * *

Meanwhile, at Holmes' new apartment and office, the detective and his assistant gazed upon their new furniture and equipment. Though the computer, fax, telephone and other machines were supposed to be state-of-the-art, they were still considered primitive by Watson's standards. He planned to make many modifications to those devices to suit their needs. He had already made some changes to his own body. In order to pass himself off as a normal human being, he had expanded on the elasto-mask technology that he wore on his face, to develop human looking hands and arms and wore them like gloves. His feet were camouflaged with paint to make them appear as heavy boots. The rest of his body was usually covered by his trench coat, to keep others from seeing that he was mechanical.

"I must say that it was extremely fortuitous that you were able to solve the Tsaska case. The reward money should keep us in the black for at least a month. It was brilliant the way you solved the murder of Morishimo Tsaska."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that Watson. I simply gathered the facts, eliminated what could not be and drew my conclusions. Akira Tsaska's downfall lay in the fact that he wasn't purely left-handed as he repeatedly claimed. Both of his arms were equally proportioned, indicating that he was in fact ambidextrous, which was further proved when the surveillance cameras showed him signing that document with his right hand. That made him a valid suspect in Morishimo's murder as the initial forensic report indicated that the killer was most likely right-handed, according to the angle of the stab wounds and the force needed to penetrate the victim's heavy coat and suit. Furthermore, with all the other evidence that we had gathered, it was a simple matter to determine that it was Hiro's twin and not Hiro himself who had snuck into Morishimo's office and killed him. And he had further planned to murder his own brother and take over his life, when it was discovered that Morishimo had named his brother as the sole heir to the family's fortune. That was the reason he had all of those notes on his sibling; his habits, his personal likes and dislikes and most importantly, be able to forge his sibling's handwriting with his right hand. After all, it wouldn't do to impersonate his brother without being able to duplicate his signature."

"As ever, Holmes you never fail to amaze me."

"And as ever, when you simply eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable it may seem, must be the truth. Now then, Watson, I believe that we shall be very busy with new cases soon, and we should prepare for them."

"Of course." Watson walked over to the computer, turned it on with his cybernetic link, and began uploading files.

Sherlock then went over to his new desk and began pondering over certain newspaper clippings, which detailed the exploits of one Richard Moore and the now missing youth detective, Jimmy Kudo. He had heard much about them and decided to look into them a bit more. As he studied the data, he couldn't help but feel that Conan Edogawa had some connection to these two...

To be continued...

Author's Notes

Well, this story has gotten off to a pretty good start and I think that I'm on the right track. Next chapter, Richard Moore is going to be pulling out his hair as Sherlock shows him what a real detective is like, and Conan will also get to strut his stuff as he and Sherlock solve a mystery together. However, Conan had best be wary, as Sherlock comes ever closer to discovering his secret.


	3. Chapter 3: Not Impossible, Only Improbab...

**ELEMENTARY MY DEAR CONAN**

Disclaimer: The clues are all there and one can only conclude that I am using the characters of Detective Conan (Case Closed) and Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century to write a story for pure enjoyment.

: Thoughts

**Chapter 3**

**Not Impossible, Only Improbable.**

"Very interesting." Sherlock commented as he watched the recording on the television set. The screen depicted Richard Moore as he explained how the creator of the murder mystery show had killed his partner. (1)

The compu-droid Watson nodded as he watched the tape. "I must say that the way this case was solved was brilliant."

"Indeed it was." Sherlock agreed, then said, "However, we cannot credit Richard Moore for solving this case. He had nothing to do with it."

"What do you mean? You saw it yourself. He explained it perfectly and..."

"Yes, it was explained perfectly." Holmes admitted. "It was most impressive, but it wasn't Richard Moore who was doing the explaining." He then rewound the tape and replayed the scene, as the process in which the murderer had shot his victim from the upper floor, was shown. Using the modifications that Watson had installed, he then did a close-up on Richard's face, particularly his eyes. "What do you make of that, Watson?"

The mechanical assistant looked in and became shocked. "I'll be reformatted! Richard Moore is asleep!"

"Indeed. Note the slight eye movement from under the eyelids. Apparently, he is in a state that is similar to non-REM sleep. He is slumbering, but he's not quite dreaming, which leads me to suspect that he is under some kind of sedation. One does not normally achieve that state of unconsciousness quickly, without help from a drug."

"But we're hearing his voice right now. Perhaps he is explaining the crime with his eyes closed?" Watson suggested.

"On _LIVE_ television with thousands of viewers watching?" Sherlock stressed. "Not at all what one would call normal. Furthermore, take a good look at his lips. They aren't moving in the slightest. And before you suggest that he is using ventriloquism, I have already ruled out that possibility. Note that his breathing is regular and not forced as one would expect of a ventriloquist. There are no muscle contractions in his throat nor chest. He is definitely not aware that someone is using him as a front, in order to solve this crime."

"If it isn't him, then who is solving the murder case? Where is his voice coming from?"

"Watson, if you please, would you do a voice analysis of this recording, when you have the time? I have my suspicions, but I need to study this further and gather more information before drawing any conclusions. I want to know the direction of where the voice is coming from, and determine if it is being mechanically reproduced."

"I shall give this task my attention at the my earliest opportunity." Watson declared as he and Sherlock headed out of the office.

"Very good. Now let us head to the Mishima Estate and collect our fee. I am certain that Mrs. Mishima will be quite happy to see her son again, once we deliver the kidnapper into the hands of the police. You have made the call?"

"Just a few minutes ago. They should be there by now."

"Let us be off, Watson."

The Moore Residence...

"I don't believe this! He did it again!" Richard growled, as he slammed the phone's receiver down on the cradle. Standing nearby, Rachael and Conan looked on with concern.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Rachael asked.

Her father was in a very dark mood as he replied. "The Mishima kidnapping case was supposed to have been mine and that nobody Holmes stole it from me!"

"Really? You mean he solved it already?" Conan became very intrigued. The kidnapping of Momoshiro Mishima had just occurred the night before and Richard had been called this morning to come in and accept the case. Now the promise of a hefty bonus was gone.

"Who does this guy think he is?! Just because he calls himself Sherlock Holmes doesn't mean that he's some super-sleuth! I'm the top detective around here!"

_I wouldn't go that far, Old Timer._ Conan thought as a slight sweatdrop formed, then he considered the possibility that the newcomer might actually be who he claimed to be. _I'm still skeptical that this man could be Sherlock Holmes, but if he's really good enough to solve high-profile cases in so little time, then..._

As Conan pondered, Rachael's father continued to brood. This was an all-too-familiar scenario and Moore didn't like it one bit. It had been bad enough that he had been upstaged on a regular basis when that punk kid Jimmy Kudo had been around, but now he was being shown up by a nut who claimed he was some fictional character in a detective novel. Well, he'd show everyone his brilliant deductive skills and put that wannabe in his place. It was just a matter of time.

A day later...

"Another case closed. Well done, Holmes!" Watson remarked as he and Holmes were walking back to their office.

"Thank you Watson. And may I ask how your investigation is going? What have you found out on the recording?" The great detective asked.

"I have already analyzed the recording and I must say that I am quite perplexed. The voice of Richard Moore was not being projected from Moore, but rather from _BEHIND_ him! Furthermore, using my voice analyzer, I made another interesting discovery. You were right, Holmes. His voice is being artificially reproduced. I compared the time he was explaining the cell phone, with the time he was supposedly solving the murder. The duplication is near-perfect and to the normal, untrained ear, (or audio sensor in my case), no one could tell the difference."

"As I suspected."

"Pardon me for asking, but why this sudden interest in another detective and potential rival?"

"For two reasons, Watson. First, I make it my business to know all of the competition and allies. One can never know when such information might come in handy. Secondly, I tend to take notice of unsolved mysteries, and the one concerning Richard Moore and another detective, has been going on for some time."

"Richard Moore, an unsolved mystery? Whatever do you mean?"

"I had looked into his background and found that until a few months ago, he was nothing more than a minor-league investigator with mediocre skills, concentrating mostly on cases of petty theft and such. The fact that he is now suddenly being credited with solving very difficult crimes, is reason enough to look into, don't you think?"

"It could be that Richard Moore had improved on his detective skills."

"Not very possible Watson, and as you know, I do not consider the impossible as valid. You saw how immature and emotional he was during the recording when he demonstrated that bit with the cell phone. I can surmise that Moore is prone to fits of emotion and a tendency to make snap judgments without getting all the facts. Not exactly a trait that is desirable in our line of business, eh Watson?"

"I suppose not. However, that still does not explain why he is given the credit for solving those crimes."

"Ah, and that brings us to our second mystery, which concerns a young and promising investigator, by the name of Jimmy Kudo."

"What do you mean?"

"I had come across several articles which told of a very talented teen detective who mysteriously disappeared at nearly the same time that Richard Moore had begun having his 'brilliant streak' so to speak."

"It could be just a mere coincidence."

"Once again, I find that to be impossible. The way in which Richard supposedly solved those cases, were actually done by someone else's method of deduction. I had studied Jimmy Kudo's style of collecting data and figuring out their meanings, (which is quite similar to my own), and I also found that same style in the cases that Richard Moore was credited with unraveling. The pattern follows a logical and very calculating way, and there is a very keen eye for detail. And comparing these cases with the ones that Moore actually solved before Jimmy Kudo's disappearance, I found a very significant difference in deductive styles. Moore had a tendency of jumping to conclusions and directing toward the obvious, while Jimmy Kudo collected all relevant facts and their connections to one another, before making a conclusion. Now recently, Moore is doing the exact same thing as Jimmy had, and in every case, he seems to be guided by someone, without him knowing it."

"Holmes, do you realize what you are suggesting? Richard Moore is reputed to be a great detective and you are accusing him of stealing another detective's work."

"I accuse no one, Watson. I am simply pointing out a series of facts and details that others have missed. Now, I do have a theory, and it does concern the absence of Jimmy Kudo."

"But if what you are saying is correct and the answer lies with Jimmy Kudo, then the big question is... where is he?"

"Where indeed." Sherlock smiled as he saw a certain someone walking with a teenage girl toward a diner. "Tell no one of my suspicions for now. I wish to gather more information before I make my final conclusions. At the moment, I feel like having some tea. Come."

Watson nodded as he followed Holmes into the coffee shop, just as Rachael Moore left the shop to go buy some cake for Conan. (2)

"Well now, we meet again young Conan." Sherlock greeted as he and Watson sat in a booth next to the one Conan was sitting in.

Conan gulped a bit as he paused in his lookout for Rachael's supposed date. He was still in a bit of awe to be in the presence of someone who just might be _THE_ Sherlock Holmes. He was still somewhat skeptical, but he managed to keep his cool as he continue to note the people coming into the diner. In all, he saw a large, beefy man with a bandage wrapped around the third finger of his left hand, (which he claimed he had injured while playing rugby), a college student, a very grumpy female who wanted coffee, and a striking woman who appeared to be an attorney. She gave him the shivers when she glanced at him. He then began noting each one as they headed toward the restroom, while he greeted Holmes and Watson. He also overheard the large man as he talked to the owner of the diner, stating that his wife was angry that he had to remove his wedding ring, due to the injury to his ring finger.

"Uh... Hello again... Mr. Holmes... Mr. Watson. I heard about you on TV. Is everything all right?"

"Things are going nicely, now that we have a place to stay. And how are you, Conan? Did you find the person you are looking for?"

"Er, what makes you think I'm looking for someone?"

"Oh, the usual signs. You have been periodically glancing out of the corner of your right eye, every time someone comes through the front door. Judging by the way you take a slight intake of breath when it is a male, I have reason to believe you are looking for someone of the same gender as yourself. The way you study each individual and taking in details, I surmise that you are gathering information in an effort to learn the person's identity and intentions."

_Whoa! This guy sure doesn't miss much! I'd better watch my step around him. If he really is Sherlock Holmes, then he might even find out about my real identity of Jimmy Kudo._

At that moment, a sly-looking character with a short ponytail walked in. He was dressed in a white suit that was dreadfully out of bad taste, and he sat down in a booth just behind Conan's. He took out his cell phone and began talking to his friend, bragging about how he had scored a date with a naive girl. When Conan showed a slight expression of anger and jealousy, Sherlock smiled knowingly.

_Ah, so that's it._ He then remembered Rachael exiting the diner and put the pieces together. _And the so plot thickens._

Conan was then paged by the waitress to answer a call. At the same time, the cad decided to head toward the restroom and a few moments later, there was a horrible scream. People began rushing toward the restroom, including the people that Conan had watched before. Sherlock and Watson immediately ran after Conan as he sprinted into the lavatory.

Sherlock noted that the cad was sitting on the floor and in a state of shock as he pointed to one of the stalls. He then saw a pool of crimson on the tiles under the door and that's when he witnessed little Conan trying to open to door. Unable to do so, the child crouched down, reached for what looked like the circular pattern on his right tennis shoe, then unbelievably leapt up some six feet up to catch hold of the top of the stall. He peered over the door and gasped in shock at what he saw in the stall.

_Interesting. It seems that a solar-powered skateboard wasn't the only thing that Dr. Agasa gave to Conan._

Soon enough, the police arrived with Inspector McGuire leading the investigation. After questioning Conan on what he had seen, he turned to face Holmes and Watson.

"So you're the detective who solved the Mishima kidnapping and the Tsaska murder."

The detective gave the police inspector a slight bow. "Sherlock Holmes at your service, Inspector McGuire." He then gestured to his associate. "May I also introduce you to Dr. John Watson?"

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." Watson greeted.

"Yeah, whatever." Like most people, McGuire thought Holmes was just some kind of eccentric detective that used the name of Sherlock as an alias. "This is police business and I'll thank you not to interfere in the investigation."

"It is my sincerest wish that you find your killer and let justice be served." Holmes said simply as he gazed upon the bloody body of the murdered woman, who was identified as 24-year-old Yvonne Marks. McGuire knelt down and looked at the corpse after a forensic officer informed him that he had found strangulation marks on the victim's neck.

"Yeah, well from what I can tell, judging by the amount of blood, the victim was strangled then stabbed once in the heart, in which she probably bled to death. And since the window is open and leads to an alley, I can pretty much surmise that this is a case of petty theft. Most likely, it was some lowlife who wanted some quick cash, so he snuck into the bathroom, and waited for someone he could rob. Then when Ms. Marks came in, he pounced on her, and killed her. I can see her personal belongings scattered all over as well as the murder weapon, so I can safely assume that the suspect killed his victim, took her money and escaped out the window and into the alley."

Sherlock nodded. "Very good assessment of the cause of death, Inspector. However, I cannot concur with your hypothesis of the crime, nor the criminal's method of escape."

"What are you talking about?"

Sherlock then gestured to Conan, who happened to be looking at the open window. "Young Conan has already noticed the inconsistency in your deduction, as did I. Please tell everyone here why the criminal couldn't have escaped through the window, lad."

Conan found himself in a situation that was quite a shock. Grown-ups were actually asking for his opinion. He gulped a bit as he pointed to what he noticed. "Don't you think that window's too clean?"

"Conan, restaurants are supposed to follow a sanitation code."

"What the young man and Mr. Holmes are trying to point out is that there is no blood on the window or on the frame."

Everyone present looked toward the door to the restroom and saw the tall, handsome woman that Conan had observed from before. She had a very sure stride and Holmes couldn't help but admire her presence. She tipped her steel-rimmed glasses up slightly and nodded to Inspector McGuire. The police officer's face brightened in recognition.

"Ava! What are you doing here?"

Ava Kaden nodded to her old acquaintance and then looked toward Holmes and Conan. "It's good to see you again, Officer McGuire, or is it Inspector McGuire now? As to why I'm here, well I took and early lunch and was supposed to meet a family member here. Now, as to what I believe the little boy and Mr. Holmes had intended to tell you was the fact that there is blood splatter all over the stall's floor, yet none near the window. You would think that killing the victim in such a confined stall would cause blood to splatter on the murderer as well. He would have left blood on the glass and sill if he escaped through the window."

"Well, what makes you think he didn't wash his hands before he left?"

"Come on, do you think a person who murdered someone in a bathroom stall and make a hasty retreat in a public bathroom would take the time to clean himself off? The murder weapon is still here, simply because the suspect couldn't take it with him. Therefore, it stands to reason that the murderer is still here."

"Now see here, Ms. Kaden. The victim's body blocked the door of the stall and there is no evidence that it's been moved. That's the only open window here, so there is no other way the suspect could have escaped! I would be perfectly happy to hear your explanation of how the murderer got away!"

"There is one way. Up there." She pointed toward the top of the stall.

"A most reasonable hypothesis, Ms. Kaden." Holmes admitted as he looked at the adjacent stall. "If the suspect was fairly spry, then it would be possible for him to escape the crime scene through that route."

"This is the first time that a fictional character had paid me a compliment, but I thank you all the same." Like everyone else, she didn't believe that Sherlock Holmes was a real person, though she was quite flattered with the gentleman, who treated her with respect and courtesy. Unlike like a certain drunkard and womanizing idiot she used to be married to.

The detective then noted the adjacent stall's walls and a slight frown formed on his lips briefly. He then walked toward where the murder weapon was being bagged then looked back toward Conan. After a quick glance at the weapon, he looked back and nodded as he noted something about the boy and smiled as he saw the intensity in the youth's eyes.

_Ah, so the little detective has noticed it as well. Excellent!_

He then turned his attention back to the group of people as the investigation continued. By this time, the body had been removed and sent to the police morgue for an autopsy. After having one of the officers show how easily it was to climb the stall walls, the attorney then began pointing out various facts, such as the locks on the stalls and bathroom door. She also pointed out the faucet near the toilet, which she suggested the killer had used to wash off any blood on him. As various suspects were gathered and told to duplicate the feat of climbing the stall, Holmes was duly impressed with the lawyer's train of thought and speculation. However, there were several key pieces of information that made her theory that the suspect had climbed the stall invalid.

As the cad Steve Wilson and the big beefy guy James Tongan were ruled out, leaving Ms. Kaden and the college student Keith Davidovich as suspects, Holmes decided that it was time to get involved.

"No, I'm not the murderer!" The college student protested as he was shown the string found at his booth. "Sure I used the string to tie my books together, but that's all! I couldn't have killed anyone!"

"Now, now, there's no need to be upset young man. It is obvious that you are NOT the killer. And I regret to say that Ms. Kaden, who happens to be approaching this case in a very logical and efficient manner, has overlooked one important detail."

Everyone turned to Sherlock as he walked up to the stalls.

"What are you talking about? Climbing the stall and getting over the top was the only way the killer could have gotten away!"

"I suggest that you pay attention." Watson said. "When Mr. Holmes makes an observation, it is always relevant."

"Thank you Watson. Now, so far this case is being examined on the _ASSUMPTION_ that the killer climbed the stall. In my business, one should never base one's thoughts on an assumption without proper evidence. And the evidence that the killer had climbed the stall is not present."

"What do you mean?" Eva asked, becoming more intrigued by this person who claimed to be Sherlock Holmes. Normally, she was credited for having a very sharp mind and good observation skills. To have someone disprove her theory was unexpected and strangely appealing.

Holmes pointed with his cane toward the adjacent stall where the suspects had been asked to climb over the top. "You will note that the people you had used to test out your theory all left footprints, either on the toilet seat, the water tank, the sink and the other walls, in order to scale the confines of the stall. However, as you look toward the stall where Ms. Mark's body had been found, you will note that there are no footprints whatsoever on any of the surfaces. If the killer had gone over the top and escaped, as you had suggested, then he would have left some marks behind." (3)

Eva was both shocked and impressed that such a simple detail had escaped her.

"If that's the case, then we have no theory whatsoever of how he got away! You've eliminated both the window and the top of the stall as escape routes." McGuire declared.

"Indeed. I have eliminated the impossible, so now let us concentrate on the improbable." Holmes stated. "The second assumption that you have all made was that the killer had murdered the woman in the stall, then made his escape. However, since we can now safely say that he didn't go through the window, nor did he go over the top, the only theory left is that he had not been IN the stall during the moment of Ms. Mark's untimely demise."

"What?! She was found dead with her body blocking the door! It's impossible for the killer to have committed the murder anywhere else!"

"Not really. After all, there is always more than one way to skin a cat. Or in this case, plant a body. Furthermore, I am also disregarding the assumption that the murderer had been stained by any of the victim's blood." He then gestured to Conan as he reached toward the officer and took the murder weapon from his hand. He then gave the bag to Conan and knelt down to face him. "I know that you wanted to look at this, judging by the way you were gazing at it."

Conan became more apprehensive as he reluctantly took the bag. He didn't want to show off his detective skills as it would raise more suspicions about his true identity as Jimmy Kudo. However, Holmes smiled at him while reaching into his coat pocket and handed the boy his magnifying glass. To the younger sleuth, it was like being given the Holy Grail. (4)

"Now then Conan, tell me what you see."

Conan took a deep breath and looked through the instrument. He then gasped as he saw a detail the police had missed. He looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes, then looked down at the bag again, noticing another detail on his right hand. He then remembered when he had first entered the restroom. He swallowed hard as he came to the same conclusion as his idol. He was still afraid to say anything, until Sherlock gave him the assurance he needed.

"Come now lad. One should never hesitate to let others know of something important in the pursuit of justice and the truth, regardless of one's age and appearance. You saw it too, didn't you? You know as well as I do, who did it."

"Holmes, what the heck are you doing, giving a little kid vital evidence?" McGuire cried out.

"I gave him vital evidence because he holds the key to solving this case." Holmes stated. "Now, would you please tell us your observations Conan?"

The little sleuth smiled as he replied. "Well... I noticed that the knife is covered in blood on the blade and handle, but there was a spot on the blade near the finger-guard that was clean. It was a straight line, like someone had tied a string to it."

"Really?" McGuire went over to them and looked at the bag. His eyes widened as he saw the knife. "You're right. There's blood on the handle and blade. but there's a clean line near the finger-guard. That's it! The murderer must have tied the knife and stabbed the victim, then jerked on the rope, causing it to be splattered with the victim's blood!"

"Very good Inspector." Holmes then addressed to his assistant. "Now then Watson, would you please give our young friend a boost? I believe that he wishes to show everyone the second detail that he had found." He pointed up to the top of the stall where the body had been found.

"Certainly." The compu-droid walked over, picked up Conan by the waist and hoisted him up toward the top of the stall. Conan showed the stain on his hand, then pointed to the top of the door.

"I found some blood on my hand, but since I never touched the body, I wondered how I got it. Then I remembered that I jumped up here and grabbed the top of the door. See, here's some blood stains." He was then set back down and smiled in satisfaction. It was good to be listened to by the grown-ups.

"Huh? So how the heck did it get up there?" McGuire asked.

"Hmmm, I must say that I am impressed." Eva commented as she began to figure out Holmes' line of thought. "It seems quite clear now that Mr. Holmes was right in his conclusion that the killer had not been in the stall when he murdered that woman. In fact, she had been killed _OUTSIDE_ of the stall, then thrown over the top of the stall, where she slid down to block the door. During the toss, blood splattered on the top of the door. The knife was jerked out by the rope and left at the scene of the crime. The suspect had previously left the window open before Ms. Marks was killed, so as to throw the police off his trail. If that didn't work, then he would still be in the clear if someone were to suggest that the suspect had climbed the stall, as I did."

"Very good summation of the crime, Ms. Haden." Sherlock praised as he then pointed to the chalk mark where Ms. Mark's body had lain. "Now then, to conclude, throwing the body over a height of eight feet is not a simple task, eh Watson?"

"Indeed." The machine man agreed. "Judging by the woman's height and stature, I would estimate that she weighed approximately one hundred ten to one hundred twenty pounds."

"And the only person who would be capable of hefting such a weight, in such a short amount of time... would be you!" He pointed to James Tongan, who immediately flinched and began waving his hands frantically.

"No! I can't have murdered her!"

"Oh? And why not?" Sherlock asked. "We have already determined beyond a doubt that Ms. Marks was thrown over the top of the stall and that the killer neither escaped through the window, nor over the top of the stall. Judging by your build and probable physical condition, you are the only one who could have committed this heinous crime. And that bandage on your middle finger was most likely used to tie the knife. I am certain that if we examined it, we will find traces of Ms. Mark's blood on it."

"No! I swear that I got injured playing rugby! I had to remove my wedding ring when my finger got hurt and..." James Tongan then paled as he looked down at the bandage.

At that point, Conan put in the final nail in Tongan's coffin. "Excuse me, but I always thought that the wedding ring went on the third finger of the left hand. (5) Did you retie the bandage when you were in the bathroom?"

Sherlock couldn't help but feel proud of Conan's abilities. He then said with a smile. "Excellent Conan. With a keen eye for details, one truth will prevail."

Conan couldn't help but feel vindicated after hearing his own motto stated by Sherlock Holmes. He returned the compliment by saying, "And when you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable it may seem, must be the truth!"

Touché.

At this point, James Tongan was steaming mad and was about to lash out at the two detectives, when Eva added insult to injury. "It never ceased to amaze me as to how stupid criminals can be, to leave a pertinent piece of evidence like that. Even a veteran lawyer like me, wouldn't have been able to get you out of a conviction."

James let off a shout of frustration as he charged at the lawyer. Eva tensed up and took a stance. As she was about to grab his extended arm and toss him to the floor, Tongan suddenly fell face-first and slammed hard into the tile floor, knocking himself out. Eva was quite surprised and looked forward. She then saw that Mr. Holmes has used the head of his cane to hook Tongan's left foot, causing him to trip and fall.

"That is not the proper way to treat a lady." Sherlock said to the unconscious felon, then bowed to the attorney.

Later...

After the killer had been taken away by the police on the grounds of killing a former lover, due to an affair that had gone bad, Rachael met up with the two detectives and her mother.

"I must say, that I am impressed with the both of you." Eva said as she, Sherlock, Rachael, Conan and Watson walked away from the diner. She then addressed her daughter. "You should have seen it, Rachael. These two solved the crime brilliantly and put me to shame." She then said to Sherlock, "Though I could have handled that brute on my own."

"I have no doubt that you would have, Ms. Kaden." Sherlock agreed. "After all, a practitioner of judo would have easily handled Mr. Tongan."

"How did you know that I practiced judo?"

"Eyes and brains, Ms. Kaden. You took a stance that is similar to what I use, being a judo practitioner myself. You reached for Tongan's extended arm and pivoted on your left foot, intending to throw him over your right shoulder, using his forward momentum and weight against him. The way you went into the stance indicated that you were well-practiced in the motion."

Rachael was impressed as was her mother, but the one who was totally awestruck was Conan. According to the novels he had read, Sherlock Holmes was supposed to be proficient in cane-fighting, judo, boxing and French-style martial arts that was practiced in Europe during the 19th Century. After seeing him in action today, his doubt over his hero being real had greatly diminished. He needed just a little more proof before he could believe that...

"Conan, I too was impressed by your actions today. You have the makings of a fine detective."

Conan blushed at Sherlock's praise. "Well, I just pointed out some stuff and you probably would have solved it without me. I never would have thought that the body had been thrown over the stall."

"Tut, tut, Conan. You should not belittle your own abilities. You would have come to the same conclusions as I had, given time. I simply guided you in the right direction." He knelt down and whispered into his ear. "Though you already know what that's like. Richard Moore needed a lot of guidance, now didn't he?"

Conan stiffened and almost had a stroke as Holmes stood up and took Eva's right hand. Planting a kiss on the back of the hand, he bowed to the two females and bid them farewell. Then he and Watson walked off toward their apartment and office.

"Hmmm... quite the gentleman. I like that. He was _VERY_ impressive. Unlike _SOME_ detectives that I know of." Eva remarked.

This comment alarmed Rachael. "_MOTHER! _How can you say that?! Okay, I'll admit that he is a pretty good detective, but so's Dad! Why don't you come back home?"

As Rachael and her mother discussed the possibility of Eva coming back to her ex-husband, (which Eva steadfastly refused), Conan watched the great detective and his associate disappear into the distance. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he felt his heart beat faster.

_He knows! He knows!_

Then he squeaked out in the barest of whispers.

"He is really _IS_ Sherlock Holmes!"

Then he remembered that he still had Sherlock's magnifying glass. He took it out and looked upon it with new wonder.

To be continued...

Author's notes

Yeah, I know that most of the readers think that I just replayed a couple of episodes of Case Closed, but I figured that doing it from Sherlock's perspective would put a new spin on things and give Conan a chance to work alongside his hero. And I wanted to point out a few details that the show didn't mention or missed.

Next chapter, Sherlock confronts Conan with his secret.

(1) At this point, the episode of Murder at the Television Studio has just taken place.

(2) Fans will remember this crime as Murder at the Diner.

(3) I always thought that little detail was missed when I re-watched the episode. It would have instantly invalidated Ms. Kaden's theory.

(4) Conan gets the equivalent of Sherlock's autograph.

(5) In the show, it was stated that the wedding band is on the fourth finger, but that's only if you count the thumb as a finger. In the western world, the fourth finger is considered the pinky.


	4. Chapter 4: One Truth Finally Prevailed

**ELEMENTARY MY DEAR CONAN**

Disclaimer: It is quite impossible for anyone to think I am using the characters of Detective Conan (Case Closed) and Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century for anything other than entertainment.

: Thoughts

**Chapter 4**

**One Truth Finally Prevailed**

In his office and apartment, Sherlock Holmes nodded, as he watched an enhanced view of the murder case that Richard Moore had supposedly solved at the local television studio. As he zoomed in on certain scenes, he smiled as his hypothesis over the true reason behind Moore's 'genius' was vindicated.

_As I suspected. That would be the only logical method, in which 'Conan' could have made Moore seem brilliant. I am quite impressed that he has been able to deceive Moore for so long. Then again, considering that Moore is quite eager to soak up whatever fame and glory that he can get, however undeserving he is of such, it should come as to no surprise._

At that point, he stopped the recording and glanced down at the newspaper articles, which described a recent string of crimes that had been solved without Richard Moore being mentioned. This time however, the criminals either admitted to their misdeeds freely, or make some small mention of a child involved. This got Sherlock to thinking more about a certain youth with 'keen eye for detail.' (1)

_It seems that the little detective is starting to let his deductions speak for themselves. I certainly cannot let such fine potential go to waste. Hmmm, perhaps it is time for me to get involved, 'Conan Edogawa.'_

"Holmes?"

Sherlock smiled as his robotic friend entered the office. "Ah Watson. I think it is time for us to pay another visit to the good Dr. Agasa. He told me that he had contacted some friends of his and a way to return us home may just be possible."

"I most certainly hope so." Watson said, though he was uneasy around Dr. Agasa and that probe of his. "It is most difficult to obtain decent spare parts and maintain myself in proper working order in this primitive society. I have been making several modifications to my systems in order to adapt to the less-than-adequate technology of this era."

"I too share your desire to return to 221B Baker Street in our own world. However, our stay in this reality has yielded a most fascinating mystery, and I hope to devise a solution to a crime most unjust."

"A crime most unjust? Whatever do you mean? Is it a kidnapping, blackmail or even foul murder?"

"None of the above, my dear Watson. This crime is a kind of theft and fraud, but it is not violating any laws other than that of decency, and it concerns our young and promising detective, Conan Edogawa."

"Theft? Fraud? Whatever do you mean? What was the sham? What was stolen?"

"The right to claim one's own hard-earned work, (though I suspect that he has his reasons for making that dunce Moore look good). And I shall see to it that things will be set right. Now come Watson. Before we go to the good inventor's laboratory, I wish to make a brief stop for a gift."

"A gift?"

"Indeed. I believe in rewarding such excellence in the field of criminology. Oh and by the way, did you complete the task that I had given to you some time ago?"

"I have."

"Excellent! You may tell me all about the results on the way. Now, come!"

In the laboratory of Dr. Agasa, Conan continued to gaze upon the instrument in his hands. He couldn't believe that he was actually holding the magnifying glass of Sherlock Holmes! The finely-ground lens seemed to speak out to him of the countless mysteries that it had seen and the clues it had revealed.

It had been two weeks since they had both solved the murder at the local diner, and since that realization that his storybook hero was the real thing, the young detective could think of nothing else. Then he remembered what the great sleuth had said to him at the end of that case.

Flashback...

Sherlock: "Though you already know what that's like. Richard Moore needed a lot of guidance, now didn't he?"

End of Flashback

_I'm not sure how he managed to figure out that I was the one guiding Richard Moore. He really is the world's greatest detective if he was able to deduce that I was the one who solved those crimes. And if that's true... what's to stop him from figuring out that I'm Jimmy Kudo, if he hasn't already?_

"Jimmy, all you all right?"

Conan came back to reality as he looked up to Dr. Agasa, and sighed. "I'm okay, Dr. Agasa. I was just thinking about a few things."

"Judging by the way you were staring at that magnifying glass, I can guess just what or rather who you were thinking about."

"Heh. Is it that obvious?"

"Well, I'm no detective, but even I can see the clues in your expression. I can certainly understand how you feel. I was very impressed when you told me about how you and Sherlock solved that case at the diner together."

Conan smiled as he remembered the case that he and the legendary detective had solved together. "It was great. He actually let me let be a part of the investigation in front of everybody, even encouraging me. Normally, people wouldn't take a kid seriously. Usually I'd get bopped on the head or Richard would give me a double-noogie and scold me for getting in the way of 'his' investigation. For the first time in a really long while, someone important listened to me, and treated me like a detective... not like a kid."

"As well you should be."

Both Conan and Agasa turned to see Sherlock and Watson standing at the front door that was open, giving them a clear view of the lab down the hallway.

"Pardon us for the intrusion, my friends." Sherlock apologized. "May we come in? We have some important things to discuss."

"Ah! Yes, of course!" Dr. Agasa said as he came to the front door and greeted his visitors. He gave Watson a slightly longing expression before inviting the two inside. "I had been expecting for the two of you to come calling after I had left that message on your answering machine. I just got in contact with an old college friend of mine, and he happens to be close in making a breakthrough in quantum-dimensional transference."

"That sounds exactly what we may need to return to our own home." Watson stated.

"It does sound promising." Sherlock agreed as he and his associated were invited for some tea.

Later...

As Sherlock sipped from his cup of oolong, he would occasionally glance at Conan and smile as the boy shyly tried not to make eye contact with him. Most of the time, Conan would focus on the magnifying glass that he had placed on the dining table. As Dr. Agasa and Watson were discussing various scientific theories and such, the great detective decided that now was the time to finally get things out into the open.

Setting down his teacup, Sherlock reached over and picked up his magnifying glass. He studied the curvature of the lens and noted that it had recently been polished. He smiled as he addressed the younger sleuth. "I must thank you for taking good care of one of my most prized possessions Conan."

"Ah, sure... no problem..." Conan replied with a bit of sadness in his eyes. "So... I guess you'll be wanting it back?"

Sherlock continued to smile warmly at the youth. "Well, yes I do. This glass has not only been instrumental in my work, but it also holds great sentimental value. It is one of the very few things that I have been able to retain since my... shall we say heyday? In addition to Watson's journals, this magnifying glass had been kept by the Lastrade family for generations, until my return, so to speak."

"Oh."

"I can see that you've become quite attached to it. Not at all surprising, since a detective is only half-complete without the tools of his trade. And I see no reason why a fine detective such as yourself should be without his own." With those words, Sherlock reached into his coat pocket and pulled out another magnifying glass. This one had a polished, blue-dyed, pearl handle and the lens was so smooth, that it seemed as if it had been cut from a diamond.

Conan nearly drooled. He had seen that instrument at the department store. He had often stood in front the display case and stare at it for long periods of time. It had been imported from Europe and the crystal lens had been ground and polished by Swiss watch-makers. Every detail it magnified would be absolutely clear. It was expensive, but was durable and well worth the price.

Conan had often dreamed of owning such an instrument, but knew that it was beyond his reach. With the pitiful allowance that was given to him by Richard Moore, (and very reluctantly given), he couldn't hope to save enough to buy it in a hundred years. He also couldn't access his bank account that had been set up for him by his parents, since it was under the name of Jimmy Kudo. Since his encounter with the Black Organization, the balance had not been touched since it would be too difficult to explain how Conan Edogawa knew Jimmy Kudo's PIN number.

"W-W-What's that for?" Conan asked hesitantly.

Sherlock smiled as he placed the instrument in front of the boy. "What else is it for, but to aid a 'keen eye' for detail?"

The younger detective's heart almost stopped as he reached out with a trembling hand. He tentatively picked up the magnifying glass and gazed at it with wide eyes. He then found his voice and said...

"It's mine?"

The sleuth from the 19th and 22nd Century nodded. "I should think so. I did pay extra to have your initials engraved into the handle."

Conan looked down at the handle of the magnifying glass and sure enough, there were two gold letters in English... J and K. Using his own knowledge of the language, he looked up at his idol and shook his head. "These aren't my initials."

"Oh yes there are... Jimmy Kudo."

At that point, the young boy nearly had a heart attack. He nearly dropped his new magnifying glass. His fears and suspicions about Sherlock knowing about his secret were confirmed from that one simple statement. Dr. Agasa was also in a state of shock after hearing the detective correctly deduce Kudo's secret.

Sherlock smiled slightly, but remained serious as he revealed how he came to his conclusions. "I will take the expressions on your faces as further proof to my deductions. Please do not attempt to deny your own self, Jimmy. I am quite certain that you are secretly aiding Richard Moore with his investigations for a good reason, and I am willing to wager that it is due to your current condition. After all, one does not suddenly regress in age from a sophomore to a second grader by natural means. Now then, will you attempt to dissuade me about your true identity? "

For a long while, Conan was silent, as he considered all of his options. He knew that Sherlock would probably not be deceived by any schemes to convince him that Conan wasn't Jimmy, and the legendary detective would most likely have all the evidence he needed to prove his deductions. And as he thought about it, Conan didn't really see the harm of having his hero know about the truth. Sherlock had already shown that he was more concerned with Conan the detective, rather than Conan the child. Finally, he let off a quiet sigh and replied.

"So how did you know?"

Holmes smiled warmly and nodded. He pointed with his right index finger to his eyes then to his temple. "Elementary my dear Conan. Careful observation and deduction. I used my eyes and brain. And as you know, once you have eliminated the impossible..."

"... whatever remains, no matter how improbable it may seem, must be the truth." Conan finished. He then gave his idol a small smile. "So, when and how did you know? I didn't think anyone could find out my secret and believe that Jimmy Kudo was trapped in the body of a kid."

"Ah, but you are forgetting that Watson and I hail from the 22nd Century. We have witnessed and experienced many technological and scientific wonders, in which Watson happens to be one of them."

"Thank you, Holmes."

Sherlock nodded to his associate and continued. "It is not beyond the realm of possibilities for a process, in which one regresses back to one's childhood. With that in mind, I began to investigate very curious instances, in which a formally mediocre detective began to solve very intricate and complex cases, comparable to the ones that I frequently encounter. Furthermore, I found a common link between the disappearance of the very talented Jimmy Kudo and the appearance of the equally talented Conan Edogawa, in the company of Richard Moore. In _EVERY_ case that he had supposedly solved, _YOU_ were always present. Now before you can say that it could all be coincidence, you should know that I rarely ever consider the possibility of coincidence. In the few interviews that Moore had participated in, he had admitted to not recalling the cases he had solved. Furthermore, there have been instances in which Moore had jumped to snap judgments and accusations, without having the proper evidence, only to suddenly turn around and solve the cases in very fine detail. Not exactly a trait for a proper detective. However, the most compelling evidence was his recent appearance on a television mystery show. Watson?"

The compu-droid nodded as he removed his left false glove and activated the holo-projector on the back of his hand. Very detailed, three-dimensional images appeared, causing Dr. Agasa and Conan to stare in disbelief. Scenes were enhanced and magnified as Sherlock explained each point in his investigation. One scene in particular was paused.

"As one can plainly see, Moore is not even conscious, let alone capable of explaining the intricacies of this murder." _And personally, I am not very confident that he could explain it, even if he were conscious._ Holmes added mentally. "Please note that he is a state that is similar to non-REM sleep, which I can postulate that he was forcibly put into via drugs or some other artificial means. Considering that you, Conan, were the only other person present in that control room, during the time of the broadcast, I can safely deduce that _YOU_ were the one that knocked him out. Since he had no reported head injuries and such, I can believe that you had accomplished this feat by means of a sedative. And I am willing to wager that Dr. Agasa had given you the means, in which you had pulled off this ingenious ruse. After all, a solar-powered skateboard and a pair of strength-enhancing sneakers can't be all that you received from the good professor. Am I correct?"

Conan blushed slightly as he gazed very slightly at his hands and his wristwatch. Sherlock caught the eye movement and reached out with his right hand to grasp gently at the boy's left wrist. "Ah, very clever. A projectile-type device would be the most logical and efficient means of delivering the sedative. Hmmm, let me see. If I were Agasa, I would conceal the device by utilizing the components of the watch in order to aim and fire the projectile. The glass face would make a good aiming sight for short range, and using the buttons that set the time and date, it would be a simple matter to make them into the trigger and activator. All I would need is to press the buttons in the right sequence..."

Sherlock used a combination of slight presses in a numerical order, and sure enough, the watch face popped up and the firing pin was ready to be pressed.

"As I suspected. The projectile would cause a momentary sting as it hits its target and delivers the sedative. Moore would probably think that he was bitten by a mosquito before losing consciousness. Then you would go to work." He released his grip on the boy's wrist.

Conan gulped hard as he deactivated the watch-firing mechanism. With almost lazy ease, Sherlock was unraveling his method of solving cases and making Moore look good. Now he knew how the criminals felt whenever their best-laid plans were uncovered by him. Still, he couldn't help but feel in awe by the skills of Holmes. The novels written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle didn't even begin to describe the detective's abilities as Holmes continued.

"Now then, even though Moore would be totally incapable of speech after being sedated, you still had a means in which to have Moore explain the crime and ferret out the villain. Watson, would you please continue with the projection?"

"Of course." Watson replayed another series of scenes, then stops when an image of Conan leaning over the windowsill and pointing the toy gun downward. The projection is enhanced and shows Conan holding his bowtie near his mouth.

Sherlock gave the youth a knowing smile as he asked in a playful, teasing tone, "Why are holding your bowtie to your mouth, young man?"

Conan gulped even harder and laughed nervously. "Ah... it was on too tight?"

Sherlock chuckled at the youngster's attempt at humor, and went on with his explanations. "I had Watson do a voice-analysis of the broadcast and he discovered that the voice of Richard Moore was being artificially reproduced. Furthermore, it was being projected _BEHIND_ him, after he was knocked out. And exactly _WHO_ was behind him during that time?"

"Ah.. heh-heh..."

"I thought so. I am willing to wager that your bowtie contains some sort of voice-emulator. It allows you to record other voices and lets you duplicate them. As long as you kept out of sight, (which is normally not a problem, since most people would generally disregard a small child), no one would suspect that it was you, and not Moore who solved the crimes. Am I correct?"

"Heh... I guess it would be pretty useless to deny it now. Wow, you really are the world's greatest detective!"

"Well, I would like to say that I'm simply very observant and possess a 'keen eye for detail' as you would put it. I was also very impressed by your exploits, both as Jimmy Kudo and Conan Edogawa. A while after Yvonne Marks' murder, I made investigative trips to Jimmy Kudo's home and the diner."

"Why?"

Sherlock then took out two small handkerchiefs and laid them on the table. "I did so to validate my hypothesis of your identity. I used one of these to collect DNA samples in several areas of Jimmy Kudo's home. The other I used to wipe the top of the stall where you had grabbed during the murder. I then asked Watson to do a DNA comparison. And he found TWO identical DNA patterns." He then held out right his hand to the compu-droid. "Watson, I believe that I have a few of Young Conan's skin cells and such on my hand. Would you please do a DNA scan?"

"Certainly." Watson extended his left hand out and scanned Holmes' palm. "I detect your DNA of course, but as to the foreign skin cells, I presume they belong to our young sleuth. My word! His DNA matches exactly to the two sets that I had discovered before! Despite his apparent age, his genetic code is an exact copy, right down the amino acid sequences and protein patterns. And that can only mean one thing..."

"Indeed." Sherlock turned back to Conan and gave him a warm smile of triumph. "And that is irrefutable proof that you are Jimmy Kudo. And so, the improbable is now altogether possible."

At this point, Conan let off a low whistle of appreciation and acknowledged that the man before him was without a doubt... Sherlock Holmes.

Now the big question was... what now?

* * *

Later...

"So that's the whole story." Conan said as he finished with his explanations. "I've been helping out Moore, so I could try to find a lead to those people who poisoned me and turned me into a kid."

"And how has your investigation been going so far?" Sherlock inquired.

The former teen detective sighed sadly as he responded. "Moore's business has gone up 100% since I started living with him and Rachael, and I'm no closer now than I was when I began. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm ever going to find them and get my real body back."

"I can understand your frustration, though I must say that this is a sinful waste of your talents." Sherlock said as he took another sip of tea. "Furthermore, though I can understand your motives in making that buffoon Moore look good, this ongoing deception is not at all productive and you are placing him and his daughter in more potential danger if you continue."

"W-What do you mean?"

"The more that Richard Moore believes in his so-called genius, the more he is going take unnecessary risks and become overconfident. This will not only endanger himself, but also Rachael. Did you ever consider that possibility?"

"Well..." Conan remembered back to when that assassin almost killed Richard, The criminal who had hired her believed that Moore was the one who had caught him, when it was actually Conan who had found him out. (2)

"Sooner or later, Moore will get involved in a case that is _FAR_ beyond his capabilities and you may not be there to help him. And who's to say that he won't eventually figure out what is going on?"

Conan couldn't argue with that. On a few occasions, Moore had gotten suspicious over how he solved those cases, and couldn't remember how. Even idiots could have flashes of genius at certain times. Still, he couldn't see any other option that he could take, given his present condition. No one ever took a kid detective seriously and using Moore as a front was the only way he could use his sleuthing skills to find who had poisoned him. Then, Sherlock gave him another option.

"Jimmy, I cannot sit idly by and let such potential be wasted. Therefore, I would like take you on... as my protégé."

"What?"

"You have the all the makings of a great detective and I for one, would like to see that potential develop. You would be a part of my investigations and I will also aid you in your quest to regain your true form. One should never let something as trivial as appearances and seeming age, get in the way of true genius. I shall endeavor to teach you all that I know and perhaps, I can learn a few things from you. You, myself, and Watson, we would make quite a team, wouldn't you say?"

Conan was in a state of shock over this sudden offer and was totally speechless. This was a chance of a lifetime, to actually work with his hero.

And yet, he hesitated. Agreeing to work with Sherlock and Watson would mean that he would have to leave Richard... and Rachael. He would no longer be a part of their lives. Without him, Richard would most likely lose his reputation as a great detective and be reduced back down to what he was before. The Moore family would suffer hard times without the increased income. Furthermore, if Conan were to take up Holmes' offer and help him solve cases, then he would be exposing his abilities to others and perhaps attract the attention of whoever had poisoned him. Then again, so far his current investigations had turned up nothing, so perhaps with Holmes' help, he may be able to find the ones who had de-aged him.

Sherlock noted the boy's hesitation and nodded. "You do not have to decide right away Jimmy. Take your time and think it over. Remember that there is no expiration date to my offer and it will always be open to you."

"Okay."

* * *

The next day...

Conan sighed as he stood in the lobby of a hotel at the crime scene of a murder and watched Moore and McGuire look over the body of some poor man, who had been seemingly been a victim of a botched burglary and had been found dead in the elevator. A list of suspects had been gathered, which included the victim's cousin, the bellhop, the maid and the hotel owner.

Already, the youth had picked up on several clues that both men had missed and wondered just how long it would take for Moore to realize those hints.

"Well, it doesn't take a genius to see this was an obvious mugging that went bad." Moore declared as the body was being taken away to be examined at the police morgue.

Conan then walked up to where the body had been and pointed out the position of the chalk mark. "Don't you think that it's kind of odd that the body was found face-down? I mean, if the person had been stabbed when he was just getting out of the elevator, then wouldn't he have landed on his back and... erk!"

Moore became furious as he grabbed Conan by the collar and hoisted him up, nearly strangling him in the process.

"You little brat! Didn't I tell you to stay out of my way?"

"But I was just trying to..."

"Why don't you keep out of this and let a real detective solve this? A kid like you couldn't even begin to solve a case like this without my kind of deductive ability!" Moore said as he practically tossed Conan to the side.

Conan stumbled backward and landed hard on his rear. As he winced in pain, he glared up at the jerk and became very angry. Normally, he would have just let this kind of thing go, but now, he was beginning to get fed up. He was just trying to help and Richard was too full of himself to even listen. Conan began to think that Holmes was right and that Moore was now getting too arrogant over his supposed 'detective genius.' A real detective, yeah right!

"Are you all right, Conan?" Rachael asked as she held out a hand to help him up.

Conan nodded as he was aided back to his feet and continue to glare at Moore. He had already deduced who was the murderer, but if Moore continued to be pig-headed, then the killer would get away. He was about to think of a way to get him and Moore alone so he could drug him and then use his bowtie to fake Moore's voice, when a certain someone arrived on the scene.

"Greetings everyone. I trust that I am not too late to lend a hand in this investigation?"

Everyone looked over their shoulder to see Sherlock and Watson walk toward them.

"Who the Hell are you?" Moore demanded.

The legendary sleuth nodded to him while gesturing to Watson. "I am Sherlock Holmes and this my associate, Dr. Watson."

Racael's father gave Sherlock a look of contempt. "Oh, so you're the nutcase who thinks he's some kind of storybook super-detective. Well, this is MY case, and I'll solve this one with my superior intellect!"

"Yes, I have already witnessed your methods so far, and I fail to see why you would toss a young lad so roughly, especially when he's made a valid observation. It must be a new type of detective work, ignoring a vital clue."

"What are you talking about?!"

"I am talking about the fact that this crime, was not a case of simple robbery, but of a planned homicide. Young Conan was correct." Sherlock then pointed to the elevator. "The victim was found facedown, in the elevator. Judging by the blood splatter on the floor in the center of the chalk outline, he had received a stab wound in the chest. Now, if the victim had been stabbed as he got out of the elevator, he would have fallen backward and landed on his back. The blood would have splattered around the area of where he had fallen, but not on the floor of elevator beneath his back. Now we can eliminate the assumption that the victim was killed when getting out of the elevator." He then knelt down toward Conan and addressed him in a warm and encouraging tone. "Since you were here before me, you probably noticed a few other details. Please tell me now."

Conan felt uneasy telling others of what he saw, especially with Richard now glaring down at him. However, he still felt angry at Richard for treating him so badly and decided that this time, he was _NOT_ going to let him have the glory for this. He took a deep breath and said...

"Well, I also smelled a bit of disinfectant on the body and the suit had chemical stains on the back. The only place you could have found that would have been on the top floor of this hotel where the maid was cleaning up all the restrooms."

"Excellent my boy! And that would therefore place the murder on the top floor, and _NOT_ the elevator. So it stands to reason that the murderer had killed the victim in one of the restrooms and then had the body placed in the elevator afterwards, to make it look as if he had died there as a result of a mugging. However, since the body was facedown and had disinfectant on him, then that hypothesis is hereby invalid. You have eliminated the impossible. Well done!"

McGuire turned to face Moore and asked. "That makes an awful lot of sense. So why didn't you pick up on that?"

Moore became a bit flustered as he tried to save himself. "Well, I would have seen it... eventually and... _HEY!_ Where do you think you two are going?!"

Sherlock looked over his shoulder and replied as he followed Watson and Conan toward the other elevator. "We are simply going up to the tenth floor, since it would be the most logical place to continue this investigation. I'm certain that a 'brilliant detective with the superior intellect' would have come to the same conclusion. I would also suggest that none of the suspects be allowed to leave until the killer has been located."

"Why you...!"

"Ease off, Moore." McGuire said. "Holmes does have a point and so far, he and Conan seem to be the only ones who have any idea of tracking down the killer."

"So you're just going to listen to some nut and a kid?!"

"I wouldn't dismiss Holmes so easily. I've seen him in action and he's good, incredibly good. He could give Jimmy Kudo a run for his money. I don't know why he's going by the name of some fictional character, but he definitely got the goods as a detective. And I think Conan may have noticed some stuff that we have missed. I don't see any harm in letting him show us what he's seen. Now come on."

Richard could only growl as he and Rachael followed the great detective and his protégé into the elevator.

* * *

That afternoon...

"_I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!_" Richard shouted as he, Rachael and Conan returned to their apartment.

Rachael tried to calm her father down as he stomped into the kitchen and took out a beer from the fridge. "Dad, it's all right. I mean, you did try your best and..."

Moore made no indication of even hearing her as he continued on his tirade. It was bad enough when Jimmy Kudo was around, but now this nutcase Holmes was showing him up in front of Inspector McGuire! In less than 15 minutes, Sherlock had correctly pinpointed the murderer, (which was the maid), and also determined the motive, (she was an assassin hired by a rival company). He made him look like an absolute idiot. Every time Moore declared that he had solved the case, Sherlock would easily disprove each of his theories by using Conan's observations. And when he said that phrase...

* * *

Flashback...

Sherlock: When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable it may seem, must be the truth!

* * *

End of flashback...

"Holmes thinks he _SO_ smart! So he made a few lucky guesses!"

"Actually, he didn't guess anything." Conan pointed out. :"He just looked at all the clues and..."

"Don't you start, you little brat!" Richard snarled. "I thought I told you to keep your nose out of my business! Why didn't you keep your mouth shut?"

"If I did that, then the murderer would have gotten away!" Conan shot back as his own temper had begun to rise. All he did was the right thing and Richard was talking down to him as if _HE_ had committed the crime. "I wanted to tell you and..."

"Oh shut up! It was bad enough that loon Sherlock showed up, but then _YOU_ had to suck up to him, you little traitor!"

"I wasn't sucking up to anyone!" Conan cried out as he began to lose patience with Richard. He just about had it with this egotistical jerk! "Mr. Holmes asked me of what I saw, and I _TOLD_ him! It's not _MY_ fault that you didn't want to listen, and it's not my fault that he solved the case with no problems, while you were still scratching your head!"

"Why you little, snot-nosed brat! We took you in, gave you a place to stay, fed you, and this is the thanks we get?! That's it! _GET OUT OF HERE!_"

This put Rachael in a state of shock as she had never seen her father so mad or cold-hearted. It was clear to her that he was only speaking out of wounded pride and anger. What was even more surprising was that Conan was behaving not like a small child, but actually more like an older, more experienced individual. He wasn't shrinking away from her father's rage, but was actually standing up to him.

Conan glared at Richard for a long time, and shed not even a single tear as his mouth became a firm, straight line. Finally, he replied in a cold tone. "Fine! Let's just see how good a detective you really are, without someone else doing all the work! Solve your own cases!" With those words, the young sleuth walked off to pack his things.

Rachael could only watch helplessly as her father stomped out of the apartment and Conan began taking out his suitcase to gather his belongings. She was rendered speechless as she watched the Moore household break apart. However, a small part of her wondered just what Conan meant when he said that her father should solve his own cases. When she decided to ask him about it, the young investigator was already gone.

* * *

That evening, at Dr. Agasa's laboratory...

"I am so sorry, Jimmy." Agasa said as he gave the young detective a soothing cup of tea. "You worked so hard to get this far."

"It's okay, Dr. Agasa." Conan said as he sipped the tea. "I just had to get away from that idiot Richard. Sherlock was right. All those cases I solved for him just gave Moore a swelled head. It didn't help me in finding those men who poisoned me either. And now... I don't know where to go or what to do."

"Well, you could always stay at your house and you've still got your bank account..."

"I can't and you know it. It would be too much to explain how Conan Edogawa would have Jimmy Kudo's keys and know the personal identification number of his bank account. That's the reason why I set myself up with Rachael and her father. I thought I could make Richard a better detective and maybe get more leads on those bastards who poisoned me. But it never happened, did it? Richard never did get any better and Jimmy Kudo was thought to be dead, so there was no reason for those men to come looking for me. I've done so well in hiding my real identity, that no one would ever think that Jimmy Kudo and Conan Edogawa were one and the same. No one except a real detective... like Sherlock Holmes."

"I thank you for the comment, Young Conan, but as I said before, you shouldn't belittle your own skills."

Both turned to see the legendary detective and his associate standing at the front door. Conan was glad to see his hero again and immediately ran toward him. He stopped a few feet in front of him and looked up.

"Mr. Holmes, I want you to know that you were right. My helping Richard did nothing but inflate his ego. And now..."

"And now you are no longer living at the Moore residence, correct?" Sherlock said knowingly.

Conan nodded. "So how did you deduce that?"

"Elementary my dear Conan." He pointed to the suitcase on Dr. Agasa's lab table. "And we also met Rachael on our way here. She's been looking for you for the past hour and I am willing to wager that she will eventually come here. I told her that I did not know of your whereabouts and it was just by mere chance that you were here when we arrived. In any case, have you decided on what you are going to do with your current situation?"

Conan shook his head sadly and replied, "No, I don't know what to do. I don't even have a place to stay any more and I don't have any other options."

"Ah, but you do have an option." Holmes reminded as he knelt down to face the youth. "My offer to take you as my protégé still stands."

Watson nodded in agreement. "It would be an honor if you would come live with us. A bright young man like yourself would most certainly be welcomed. And we can always use another set of eyes and brains."

"So what do you say, Detective Conan?" Sherlock inquired as he held out a hand.

A moment later, the young sleuth grasped his hero's hand warmly as a bright smile appeared on his face.

To be continued...

Author's Notes

As the readers may have already guessed, the series has been irrevocably altered as Conan and Sherlock forge a new detective duo and Richard is going to realize that being an ace detective isn't as easy as he thought. We'll also have an appearance of the Junior Detective League (Detective Boys), and Rachael will have some private moments as she begins to realize certain truths. Be there!

(1) By now, the episodes of The Mountain Village Murder and the Flames of Confusion have taken place. From here on in, the next few cases will be very different.

(2) Fans remember this episode as Better Off Forgotten.


	5. Chapter 5: Never Assume Anything

**ELEMENTARY MY DEAR CONAN**

Disclaimer: Once you eliminate the impossible, the improbable is that I am using the characters of Detective Conan (Case Closed), and Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century to write a story for pure enjoyment.

: Thoughts

**Chapter 5**

**Never Assume Anything**

"But you can't cancel now! I'm this close to solving the case! What do you mean it's been solved already? No! Please! I..."

**_CLICK!_**

Richard Moore bowed his head down and sighed in depression as his client hung up. Standing nearby, Rachael looked on in concern. Things had taken a very bad turn since Conan had moved out of their home. The teen wondered just how their situation had come to this.

It had been three weeks since Conan Edogawa had argued with Richard Moore and angrily left their home. She had later learned that Sherlock Holmes had taken the boy under his wing and amazingly, had begun bringing Conan along on all of his cases. The media had been having a field day, touting the so-called fictional detective and his pint-sized partner as the new 'Dynamic Detective Duo.' She had been quite surprised to discover that Conan possessed a kind of intelligence that reminded her of her absent boyfriend Jimmy Kudo. She had begun to think that he had something to do with her father's recent decline in his detective work.

Richard Moore had not been his usual brilliant self since Conan's departure. In fact, he had begun making wild accusations and jumping to conclusions more frequently during his cases. Naturally this did not impress the clients, who had expecting the great detective Moore to solve their problems without fail. His reputation as a famed sleuth began to erode and business had declined. They were eating more ramen noodles over the past few days. Everything had to be carefully budgeted, due to the lack of income. Lately, Rachael had been considering of getting a part-time job after school to help out with the finances.

The detective had been assuring his daughter that he was just in a bit of a slump, but by now, Rachael wasn't buying it. Her father always seemed to be at a loss during his cases and it looked as if something important was missing from his investigations. Then she had thought back on all of the cases that he had solved when Conan had been living with them. She had previously joked that he had been a good luck charm to her father's climb in the detective world, and had generally dismissed the idea that Conan was any kind of detective. However, with his departure and new fame as Sherlock's associate, she began to have second thoughts.

When Conan had been living with them, he had displayed on occasion, moments of perceptiveness and brilliance. At crucial times, he would innocently say something that would give her father the clue he needed to solve a case. And she couldn't remember a time when he was not present whenever Richard Moore found out the criminal. One more fact was that her father could never recall how he solved the mysteries.

_No, it can't be... because of Conan... can it?_

* * *

Meanwhile...

"And there we have it, Inspector McGuire." Sherlock said as he held up a piece of paper. "This receipt is dated one hour before the murder occurred. It is irrefutable proof that Mr. Senshima is the murderer, since only he could have purchased this knife at the store, when he was supposed to have been at the restaurant across town."

Beside him, Conan nodded as he added in his input. "You can see the slight thumbprint stain on the left side. It matches the paint on his left hand, so it couldn't be anyone else's. It was a good thing that I managed to get it before he had a chance to destroy it."

McGuire couldn't help but smile at the youngster, then addressed his mentor. "Well, I got to admit, you two did a great job on this case and you're brilliant Holmes. I can see where Conan is getting his detective skills. I was getting worried on who to call since Moore seems to be losing his touch and I still can't find Jimmy Kudo. Now there was a detective, no offense to you, Mr. Holmes."

"None taken, Inspector." Holmes assured as he smiled down briefly at Conan. "I too acknowledge the abilities of Jimmy Kudo, and I assure you that he appreciates the compliment."

"Really? You mean you know where he is?"

"Let's just say, that I have a good connection with him and I assure you that his talents will be available when they are needed."

* * *

Later...

"Why did you say that you knew about me and that I'm helping you?" Conan asked as he, Sherlock and Watson walked back toward the office.

"Well it is the truth, isn't it?" Sherlock replied. "Furthermore, if it is known that Jimmy Kudo is still alive, then perhaps we can smoke out the men who had poisoned you. Since you are no longer residing with the Moore family, then there is less chance of them being endangered. Just so long as we are careful never to let on that you are Jimmy, then we will always have an open option. Having you as my disciple will further dissuade those who may suspect your identity. People will simply assume that you are learning your skills from me, which in a sense you are. Though I am merely guiding you to become an even better detective and I couldn't be more proud at the progress you have made."

"Thanks. It's been really great working with you so far and I've learned a lot."

"Good. Now how is that Holo-Learner working out for you?"

* * *

Flashback..

"What's that?" Conan asked as Holmes brought out what appeared to be a CD player and headset.

"This device is called a Holo-Learner." Sherlock explained as he took out a vid-disc that Watson had just downloaded from the Internet. "It was most useful during the time of my revival in the 22nd Century, since I needed to be re-educated from the era of the 19th Century. It is quite easy to operate. You put in a vid-disc, then put on the goggle-phones and... you learn." The detective then placed the headset on Conan's head and adjusted it to fit his smaller size.

"That's all I have to do?" Conan asked.

"Well, of course you still need to think, in order to learn, but I am confident that you are more than capable of that task." Sherlock amended as he turned on the device.

"Whoa! Cool!" The young boy exclaimed as he saw the virtual reality scenes which were even more realistic than any video game he had ever played.

End of flashback...

"It's really neat! I wish I had it during my algebra classes in high school."

"Bear in mind that I am letting you use it to help develop your deductive skills, and so that you can keep up with your former classmates at Titan High. Eventually, we shall return you to your normal state, and it would not do for you to have missed out on your education. Now then, have you completed your studies in criminal footwear and clothing?"

"I finished last night, though I don't know why I need to know about what criminals wear in prison."

"Never discount the value of all types of information. The more you know, the more you can apply in finding answers."

Then Conan began to think about how Rachael and her father had been doing. So far, he had been hearing rumors that Moore had been getting less and less business and that he and his daughter had fallen on harder times. He couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for their recent misfortune and hoped that things would turn around for them soon.

* * *

The next day at Conan's Elementary School...

"Hey Conan! I saw your picture in the paper this morning!" Amy said as she, Mitch and George crowded around Conan's desk. Since joining up with Sherlock and becoming more active with the cases, he had begun to gain fame as the Little Detective. Though he didn't care for the title, it was still satisfying to be recognized for his skills as a sleuth. With Sherlock Holmes beside him, he was being taken more seriously in front of others.

"I think it's really cool that you're able to take part in all those cases." George said with a bit of envy.

"Yeah." Mitch agreed. "Though I wonder why you never got to do very much when you were staying with Detective Moore."

"Ah who cares about that nobody?" George said. "He doesn't know what he's doing any more. I could do better than him as a detective."

_You're not that far off George._ Conan thought as a small sweatdrop appeared on his forehead. _It would be just about even._

"Conan, do you think you could introduce me to Mr. Holmes after school?" Amy asked with a hopeful expression. "I want to get his autograph."

"Yeah, do you think you can introduce me to him, too?" Mitch asked excitedly. "Sherlock Holmes is really awesome, just like in the books!"

"Hey, I got an even better idea!" George declared. "Why don't we come along with you and Mr. Holmes on a case?"

"Yeah! That would be really cool! We can show Mr. Holmes what the Junior Detective League can do!" Mitch cried out.

"I don't know..." Conan said nervously.

**_BEEP! BEEP!_**

"What's that?" Amy asked as she pointed to a small device on Conan's belt. It was about the size of a lighter and resembled a pager.

The Little Detective reached down and plucked the device from his belt, then spoke into it.

"Mr. Holmes?"

On the other end of the line, Sherlock nodded as he spoke into the new mini-communicator and tracking device that Dr. Agasa had made for him and Conan. It was far more efficient than the modern cell phone and walkie-talkies, thanks to some 22nd Century technical help from Watson. It even had a video screen to allow two people to see each other as they spoke.

"That is so cool! You even got a video-cell phone!" Mitch cried out.

Sherlock smiled as he spoke, "Ah Conan. Good lad. I have a case which will require your presence after school today. Do you think you can meet me and Watson at the Shinata Estate on Tsuka Street at 5:00 p.m.?"

"You bet, Mr. Holmes, I'll be there as soon as possible." Conan replied.

"Yeah! We'll all be there!"

"You can count on us, Mr. Holmes!"

"The Junior Detective League is on the case!"

Conan quickly turned off his communicator and then looked nervously at his classmates, who were now wearing really silly grins and expectant expressions.

"Uh guys...?"

_I've got a bad feeling about this._

* * *

Conan rode his skateboard hard, trying desperately to lose his eager friends. He certainly did not want them to tag along on what could be a potentially dangerous case. However, they managed to keep pace on their bicycles as they called out to him.

"Wait up Conan!" Amy said as she pedaled hard.

"Yeah!" Mitch was pumping hard.

"Slow down!" George gasped as he lagged behind his compatriots. He began to wish he hadn't had all of those snacks before racing after Conan.

Conan wanted to lose his pursuers but as he saw the Shinata Estate come into view, he decided that it was of no use and slowed down. His friends soon caught up to him as he came to the front gate, where Sherlock and Watson were waiting for him.

"Ah, Young Conan. Right on time, as always." Holmes greeted, then noted that his protégé was not alone. "And who might these fine youngsters be?"

"Uhm... sorry about this, Sherlock. I didn't mean to bring my friends with me but..."

"Tut, tut. No need to apologize, Conan. Any friends of yours are mine as well. Now then..." He then knelt down and gazed upon Amy first. "Hello, Amy. It's a pleasure to meet someone who just scored perfectly on today's grammar test."

Amy's eyes opened wide as she gasped. "How did you know my name and that I got a hundred percent on the test?"

"Elementary, my dear. Elementary school that is." Sherlock replied, chuckling slightly at the pun. He reached toward her backpack and pointed to a leaf of paper that was protruding from under the top flap. It had gotten jostled during the chase after Conan. "Here we have your name and your test score." He then turned to Mitch. "Now then, young man, what is your name?"

"Er, it's Mitch, Mr. Holmes."

"Pleased to meet you, Mitch. You must be more careful when riding your bicycle down Shinba street. That shortcut from your home in the Nerima district is quite treacherous and it is not worth the danger of injuring yourself just to come in on time."

"How did you know where I lived and how I went to school today?" Mitch asked in astonishment.

"Once again, I say elementary." Sherlock replied as he pointed to Mitch's bicycle, specifically the tires and pedals. "There is some construction going on between the Nerima district and the school where Conan attends. They are laying fresh cement on Shinba street and there are some traces of formally wet cement on your tires and pedals. Conan's school is the only elementary school near the Nerima district and the shortest route from Nerima is through Shinba street."

"Wow!"

"Ooh! How about me?" George asked excitedly as he began jumping up and down.

"And your name is?" Sherlock inquired.

"It's George, Mr. Holmes!"

"Very well George. I must say, that you're quite spry for someone who had just wolfed down a bag of potato chips, some powdered doughnuts and several raspberry sours."

"Gee, how did you figure that out?"

"For the third time, elementary. Your shirt has some fresh oily stains in which you wiped your hands on and here we have some crumbs and some powdered sugar." He plucked a small particle of food that was stuck to the front of George's shirt and then gestured to other stains before pointing to George's tongue. "Furthermore, your tongue has been stained purple from the raspberry sours."

"Whoa! That's amazing!"

"Not at all." Sherlock said as he stood up. "I simply used my eyes and my brains." He then addressed Watson and Conan. "Now then, are we ready to begin the investigation?"

"Ready Holmes." Watson responded.

"I'm ready." Conan said.

"We're ready too!" Amy, George and Mitch cried out in unison.

At this point, Sherlock was quite surprised as he gazed upon Conan, who could only look down at his feet in embarrassment.

"Conan, would you like to explain yourself?"

"Ah... eh heh."

* * *

A few minutes later...

"Holmes, are you certain that this is wise?" Watson asked as Holmes led his little group of followers toward the mansion.

"Nonsense Watson. We can always use some extra sets of eyes and brains." He then glanced over his shoulder and addressed George, Mitch and Amy. "Just so long as the three of you follow my instructions. Agreed?"

"You bet Mr. Holmes!" George said excitedly.

"You can count on us!" Amy vowed.

"We won't let you down!" Mitch promised.

Conan could only watch nervously and hoped that his mentor knew what he was doing.

"I'm certain that you won't." Sherlock said as he and his party arrived at the front door of the mansion. He gently knocked on the wood and waited until a servant came to greet them. The elderly butler bowed to the great detective.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes I presume?"

"I am. And I would like to introduce you to my associates, Dr. Watson, Conan Edogawa and... the Junior Detective League."

"I am Jarvis, the Shinata family servant. This way sir." The butler then led the group into the hallway and toward the main conference room. There they met with a portly, elderly-aged man, his wife, his business partner Akira Shinji and several other servants. Inspector McGuire and some of his officers were present. Holmes and Conan were quite surprised to see Richard Moore and Rachael there as well.

"Aw c'mon Inspector McGuire, I can solve this case! Just give me a chance!"

Moore was in a sorry state. His clothes were a bit shabby and it looked as if he hadn't slept well in the last few days. If one could smell closely, the lingering scent of alcohol was on his breath. The Inspector noted the smell as he came close to him.

"I don't know if I should Moore. Lately you've been slipping and haven't been very reliable." McGuire said. "And you're not exactly in the best of shape to solve anything. Maybe you should wait until the booze wears off."

"Ahhh, I'm fine! Just watch! I'll solve this case in no time!"

Behind her father, Rachael became even more worried. Even she could see that her father was in no condition to solve this case or anything. However, Richard Moore was nothing if not stubborn and once he got wind of this case, he had barged his way in and demanded the Shinta family to give him the opportunity to solve the crime. His reckless behavior frightened the elderly couple and the police had been called in. Moore had become especially angry when he had been informed that Sherlock Holmes had been given the case. He was about to get violent as he caught sight of Holmes and his party.

"You! Stay out of this, you nut! This is my case!"

Richard was prevented from lunging at Holmes as his daughter grabbed him from behind and held him back.

"Dad! Please! Calm down!"

After a bit of a struggle, she managed to get her father to back down as Sherlock was informed of the crime from the Shinata family.

"So you say that someone had stolen a very important set of documents from your secret safe?"

Mr. Shinata nodded. "Yes, they were the blueprints for our newest microchip board. They're the only copies in existence and are worth billions. Only myself and my vice-president Mr. Shiji know the combination of the safe, and the safe is..."

"... located in the secret compartment in that overhead chandelier." Holmes finished as he pointed with his cane at an elaborate crystal chandelier above the conference table.

"My word! How did you know?"

"Simple observation and deduction. I used my eyes and my brain." Sherlock then looked down at his junior partner. "Conan, I believe that you can also deduce the whereabouts of the safe."

Conan smiled as he looked about, then nodded while pointing up. "That chandelier is missing a piece of crystal in its lower row and I can see a slight outline of a panel. I guess normally, the crystals would hide the safe." He then looked down and saw something lying on the floor under the table. "Here's the broken piece."

"That doesn't prove anything! It was probably knocked off when one of the servants dusted the chandelier." Moore scoffed as he tried to take control of the investigation. He just had to show up Holmes and that traitor Conan.

"I find that hard to believe, Mr. Moore." Sherlock said calmly as he gestured at the carpeted floor below. "I would surmise that a cleaning person would need a ladder in order to reach the chandelier and I see no indication of one being used recently. Also judging from the slight coating of dust on the chandelier, I would presume that it had not been dusted for at least two days."

"Yes, I've had this room closed off since yesterday for an upcoming renovation." Mr. Shinata stated. "I had placed the plans in the safe the night before, then when I came to retrieve them this afternoon, they were gone!"

"I see." Sherlock nodded. "And when did you place the plans in the safe?"

"It was around 1:00 a.m. and the hidden cameras had shown that no one had entered the room until I came for the plans at 4:30 p.m. this afternoon."

"Hmmm, interesting. The thief went through a lot of trouble to get past all that security. Furthermore, look at the lack of footprints on the table, which eliminates the possibility that the thief or anyone else had stood on it to get to the chandelier and the safe."

"So how do you figure the thief had gotten to the safe, Mr. Know-It-All?" Moore sneered.

"Elementary, Mr. Moore. He came in from above." Sherlock pointed up toward the ceiling and the skylight.

"And what proof do you have that he used that route?" Moore asked angrily.

"Simple. Young George happens to be standing on it."

At that moment, George looked down and let off a sound of disgust. "Ewww. I stepped on something!" He raised his right foot while hopping on his left.

Conan went over to him, took hold of the shoe and looked at the substance stuck to the sole with his magnifying glass. Using his index finger, he scraped off a sample and showed Mr. Holmes, while releasing George's foot. "It's some kind of epoxy, Sherlock. Looks like it's been melted several hours ago."

The detective nodded. "Ah yes, as I suspected. Watson, would you please head up to the roof, and check out the condition of the skylight?"

"At once, Holmes." The compu-droid headed toward the stairs as Sherlock continued.

"As you may or may not know, epoxy is a common weather sealant. No doubt that it came down from the skylight as the thief melted through it to open a glass panel and lower himself to the safe. Congratulations George. You have found a vital clue to this case."

"I did? I mean, yeah I did! It was no problem!" George scratched his the back of his head and laughed.

Sherlock then continued. "Now then, getting back to this investigation, the thief went through a great deal of trouble to go through the skylight to get to the safe. This leads me to suspect that the thief not only knew of the safe's location, but also of where the security safeguards are and the combination to the safe. In other words, it was an inside job."

"What?!" Mr. Shinata gasped.

"That's absurd!" Mr. Shinji agreed. "Only President Shinata and I know the combination to the safe and the security measures! We were both away at a meeting today, so neither one of us can be the culprit!"

"He's right." McGuire said. "Their alibis checks out. Both were nowhere near the safe all day and the surveillance cameras didn't show anyone entering the room since 1:00 a.m."

"Improbable perhaps, but not impossible." Sherlock pointed out. "Why would the thief go through all the trouble of entering through the skylight, unless he knew that there were security measures on the floor? I would presume that this room is either equipped with infrared sensors or pressure plates on the floor?"

Mr. Shinata couldn't help but nod. "Yes, actually we have both infrared and pressure plate sensors. And the skylight is wired to the alarm system as well."

Moore then jumped in. "But there's no way he could have gotten through the skylight. The spaces in the metal framework are too small for a normal man to fit through! They can't be more than a foot wide! And I don't see any of them bent out of shape! And why wasn't the alarm tripped?"

"You are basing your theories on the _ASSUMPTION_ that we are dealing with a normal thief, when it is obvious that this crime involved a lot of planning in order to get past all of the security measures." Sherlock pointed out. "As a detective, you should never make any conclusions using assumptions, until you have all the evidence. Since there is no evidence of a ladder or any other means of reaching the safe from the floor, then the only logical alternative is from above."

At that point, Watson called in from the roof, causing everyone to look up.

"Holmes, I have completed my analysis and there seems to be one panel which has been removed and replaced. The epoxy has been recently melted away."

"Excellent Watson. We shall join you shortly." Sherlock then addressed his infuriated rival. "You are free to make your own investigations, Mr. Moore. I wish you the best of luck. Come Junior Detective League. The game is afoot."

As they left for the door, Sherlock looked up and spotted another clue.

Moore was left steaming mad as he watched Holmes, Conan and the others leave the crime scene. His eyes were seeing a red haze as he thought angrily.

_I'll show them who's top detective here! Nobody out-deduces the Great Richard Moore!_

Behind him, Rachael continued to look on worriedly. She also gazed at Conan as he followed his mentor. Already she had been surprised by the show of intelligence in him. Could he really be the genius that her father had once suspected him of being? And why did he remind her so much of Jimmy Kudo?

* * *

On the roof of the estate...

Sherlock and Conan were examining the skylight as Watson and the Junior Detective League had been sent to question the servants and look about the property for any clues.

"Now then, as you can see Conan, this pane of glass has indeed been removed and replaced as the epoxy has been melted. It was quite hurriedly put back into place." Holmes pointed to the edges.

"Yeah, but I hate to admit it, but Richard may have a point. I mean, this space is pretty small for someone to squeeze through. Even for someone of my size."

"Ah, and there we have the key word, Conan. The word 'squeeze.' Note the edges of the framework where the pane had been removed."

Conan looked closely with his magnifying glass. His eyes widened as he saw certain details. "Hey! It looks like there's some kind of lubricant on the sides."

"Indeed. And look over here." Holmes gestured toward the chimney at the part which joined the roof. "Note this straight line imprint here. This indicates that the thief had tied a rope from here and used it to lower himself down toward the safe."

"Yeah, it does make sense but..." Just then, Conan saw something near chimney and pointed to it. "Hey! Look at this! The thief left some footprints in the dust here!" He knelt down near them and gazed upon the prints with his magnifying glass. "I don't believe it! These shoes are..."

"Yes..." Sherlock said with a grin as he waited for his apprentice to make the connections.

"I recognize these kinds of soles! There from those holo-vids of criminal footwear, worn by inmates of the Osaka prisons!"

"Very good, Conan. You see. I told you that all kinds of information would come in handy, sooner or later. Now then, what else can these prints tell you about our thief?"

"Well, he wears a size eight-and-a-half and it looks like he's pretty light on his feet, judging by the size and shape of the imprint. Hey, what's this?"

Conan picked up a small particle of what appeared to be a rose petal, which was on an imprint of the right shoe. He also found what appeared to be rose thorns.

"Interesting." Sherlock remarked as he took the clues from his disciple and gazed upon it. He then pocketed the petals and thorns away and motioned for Conan to follow him and meet up with the others.

* * *

Later...

"Well Watson, what have you and the Junior Detective League discovered?" Holmes asked as group met up in the estate's garden.

"I'm afraid that we did not find much Holmes." The compu-droid said. "All of the servants at the mansion were all accounted for during the supposed time of the theft."

"I'm sorry we let you down Mr. Holmes." Mitch said dejectedly.

"Yeah, we didn't find any clues." Amy sadly added. "We asked the butler, the cook, the gardener..."

"Tell me about the gardener." Sherlock asked.

Amy perked up a bit as she related her meeting with the nice man.

* * *

Flashback...

"Why hello there little lady." Kenji Makana the gardener greeted as Amy entered the greenhouse. Currently, he was tending to the roses. "Can I help you?"

Amy shyly looked up at the man and said, "Did you see anything strange happening today?"

The gardener smiled as he cheerfully replied. "Strange, well I don't think I see very many strange things in the greenhouse. I'm hardly ever out of this place, since I constantly have to take care of Mr. Shinata's prize roses."

"Ooh, they're pretty!"

"Yes, they are." He then reached behind him and picked up some pruning shears, without turning around toward the table. His arm twisted slightly at an odd angle to pick up the instrument.

"Wow. I never thought an arm could bend like that."

"Well, I am pretty flexible."

* * *

End of flashback...

Sherlock smiled as he patted Amy on the head. "Very good Amy. You have just found another vital clue to this case."

"Really?" The little girl's eyes lit up at the compliment.

"Indeed. Conan, let us pay a visit to this gardener. As for the rest of you, I want you to go to the surveillance room and study the camera footage. I'm counting on you."

* * *

At the greenhouse...

"Look, I don't know why people are coming here and asking me questions. I'm telling you that I had nothing to do with anything and I got nothing to hide!" Akira angrily reached behind him for his pruning shears again, once again bending his right arm at an extreme angle.

Sherlock shrugged as he motioned Conan to follow him. As they were leaving, he winked at him, then said over his shoulder to Mr. Makana. "I suppose that aside the fact that you were a former professional contortionist..."

"... who happened to have spent some time in prison in Osaka..." Conan added.

"... then you indeed have nothing to hide."

Akira became as white as a ghost and stiffened up at their words. The two detectives stopped and turned around to face a shocked gardener.

"H-how did you know about that?"

Sherlock and Conan smiled as they began to interrogate him.

* * *

The security room...

"Ah, this is getting to be a compete waste of time." George complained as he and his friends watched the surveillance video. "It's nothing but the same thing. I don't see anything wrong."

"Patience, Young George." Watson said. "A good detective will find the most important of details, if he waits long enough."

"Yeah, but we've already looked at this thing for more than an hour, and it hasn't changed. All I see is an empty room and..."

"Hey, wait a second! I think I see something!" Mitch said as he pointed to the lower left corner.

"What is it?" Amy asked.

"Allow me." Watson said as he used his computer skills to zoom in on the object. The looks of anticipation on the children became one of disappointment as they saw what it was.

"Aw, it's nothing but a stupid fly." George said as he watched the insect buzz about near the skylight.

However, Watson started rewinding and pausing at a length of tape as something caught his attention. He then took note of the time frame and nodded. He smiled at Mitch and said, "Well done, Mitch. You have just uncovered a clue as important as the ones your compatriots had found."

"I did?" Mitch said in confusion.

"Indeed. We must inform Holmes about this."

* * *

Later...

"Well done, Watson. And a hearty well done to you, Junior Detective League. Now, all we need to do, is to bring the true criminal to justice. Conan, are you ready to set the trap?"

Conan nodded as he held up his bowtie. He then picked up a nearby phone and dialed a certain number. He then used his voice-emulator to speak in the gardener's voice.

"It's me. I've got the blueprints, but the deal's been changed. I want all the evidence you've got against me and one million in cash for my silence. Or else I go to the police... all right. Meet me at midnight at the greenhouse."

"Wow, Conan. That's really cool! Is that another device from Dr. Agasa?" Amy asked.

Conan nodded as he looked up at his mentor. "Should we inform Inspector McGuire?"

"I should think so." Sherlock said as he led his party back to the main conference room. Earlier, he had called the police and Mr. Shinata. He was also curious of what kind of conclusion Richard Moore had come to.

* * *

"The criminal is _YOU!_" Richard cried out in triumph as he pointed to Jarvis.

"Oh really, Mr. Moore." Sherlock said while rolling his eyes. "You believe the butler did it? That is so cliché."

"Hah! Laugh all you want, Sherlock, but I have the proof! And it's right here!" Richard held up a folder and showed it proudly to Mr. Shinata. "Here we have your missing blueprints, Mr. Shinata. I found them hidden in Jarvis' desk drawer. He's your thief!"

Mr. Shinata took the folder and looked through the contents. "Well, yes these are plans..."

Moore's expression became even more smug as he looked at Sherlock and Conan. Inspector McGuire became amazed. Perhaps Moore was finally out of his rut?

"But these are only the first drafts of our new microchip board. Look at the date. These are two weeks old and contain a flaw that rendered this particular design worthless. These wouldn't be worth anything." Shinata stated.

"Huh?"

"As I recall, I did give these to Jarvis to shred after I put the final drafts in the safe."

Jarvis nodded. "Yes sir, but I was unable to do so since the paper shredder was out of order at the time. I had been planning to burn it in the incinerator later this evening."

"Moore..." Inspector McGuire said in a very dangerous warning tone.

At that moment. Richard felt extremely embarrassed. Behind him, Rachael could only watch in disappointment. Her father had been so certain that he had solved the case, but now...

At that point, McGuire turned to Sherlock. "So have you and your junior partner made any progress in this case, Sherlock?"

"We have. In fact, you will have the villain in your custody by tonight." The sleuth turned to Mr. Shinata. "Where is your vice-president?"

"He was called away to one of our corporate offices in Hiroshima on some minor business and won't be back until tomorrow."

Conan smiled as he said, "I assure you that he'll be back sooner than you think and this business of his is anything but minor." He then turned back to his elementary school friends and said, "Mr. Holmes would like to thank you for all of your help. He told me to tell you that you can go home now."

"Aw, but can't we stay until the end of the case?" Mitch pleaded.

"This might be dangerous and Sherlock doesn't want you to get involved in what's going to happen tonight. I'll tell you everything tomorrow afternoon, okay?"

* * *

That night...

Akira Shinji angrily looked about as he stealthily entered into the greenhouse. In one hand, he had a suitcase of money, and hidden in his suit pocket was a gun. He then heard a familiar voice calling out from the darkness.

"Have you got the money and the files?"

"Makana? Where are you? I've got your blackmail money right here!" Akira cried out angrily.

"And the files?" The voice asked.

"Yes, it's all here! No one will know about your dirty little secret or how I had you do the job for me in stealing those plans! Now show yourself and hand over those blueprints! My clients are waiting!"

"I think they can wait a little longer until after I get all the evidence you have on my about my past... and the money. Though it's probably chump change compared to what your clients are offering for these plans. You're a real piece of work, Shinji."

"Oh spare me! It's no less than I deserve, especially after all the trouble I went through to get you past the security measures around the safe! Ten years of slaving away under Shinata and he had the nerve to tell me that I was going to be replaced! Well, with the money I get from this sale, I'll be able to live the easy life! Now show yourself, so you can get what's coming to you!"

At that moment, someone did appear from the shadows. Two people actually... Sherlock Holmes and Conan Edogawa.

"What the...?!"

"Good evening, Mr. Shinji." Holmes said as he and his partner confronted the man. "I must say that your plan to steal the blueprints and sell them to your rivals was most creative. However, the game is over, and I must conclude that you've lost. You may as well surrender."

"Oh yeah? And where's your proof?" Shinji sneered as he reached into his coat for his gun. However, at that moment, Watson came up from behind and grabbed him in a vice-grip, causing him to drop his weapon to the floor.

"You should know that Mr. Holmes is always correct in his conclusions." Watson said.

"Good work, Watson." Sherlock said then nodded to the shadows. "Did you get all that, Inspector?"

McGuire appeared, along with several of his officers. He held up a tape recorder. "We got it all."

Conan smiled as he looked up at his idol. "One truth prevails!"

* * *

The very next day, Conan and the Junior Detective League were walking together.

"I still don't get it. How did you find out that the vice-president was the mastermind?" Mitch asked.

Conan nodded as he explained. "On the roof, Mr. Holmes and I found fresh rose petals and thorns near some footprints. I recognized those prints were made from a type of shoe used by inmates at an Osaka prison. We also found the sides of the skylight panel that was removed was coated with some kind of lubricant."

"Lubra... what?" George said while scratching his head.

"Like oil and grease, to make things slippery." Conan explained. "It was used so the thief could squeeze through the tight space of the skylight. We deduced from the rose petals and thorns, that the gardener was the one who committed the actual theft. He turned out to be a former circus performer, a contortionist."

"What's a contortionist?" Amy asked.

"Well, it's those people who are really flexible and can bend and squeeze themselves into really tight spaces."

"Oh yeah! I saw someone like that at the fair last year!"

"Right. The gardener had been recently released from prison and was trying to make a new life for himself. The vice-president had found out about it and threatened to expose him if the gardener didn't steal the plans for him, while he made his alibi to keep from being suspected."

"So how did he steal those plans without the surveillance cameras showing it?"

"That's because the vice-president had tampered with the video-recordings before the robbery. He replaced a length of the video with a previous sequence which showed an empty room. So when the gardener came in through the skylight, the cameras only showed an empty room. The vice-president had also given the gardener the combination to the safe and a way to get in, by preparing that open window panel in the skylight. However, what he ignored was the fact that a fly had flown into the open panel. He didn't think something so small and tiny would go noticed. But you did Mitch. And that was solid proof that the video film had been tampered with. Watson noticed that the fly suddenly appeared in sight as if by magic. That's impossible, so that meant that the video of the fly coming in through open skylight and buzzing about had been removed and replaced with a scene of an empty room."

'Whoa. Who would have thought that?" Mitch let off a low whistle.

Conan nodded as he finished. "We confronted the gardener and he confessed to everything. So we laid out a trap and caught the vice-president with a solid confession. The gardener is willing to testify against Mr. Shinji."

"Can you believe this? We actually helped solve a real case!" George said excitedly.

"You sure did and Mr. Holmes would like to thank you guys personally." Conan said as he led the group to a very popular ice cream parlor. Sitting at a nearby booth were Sherlock and Watson.

"Welcome Junior Detective League and congratulations on a job well done!"

"Mr. Holmes!" The kids cried out as they ran toward the booth. As they were invited to sit down, Sherlock signaled for the server to come take their orders.

"Order anything you like and you may have seconds if you wish. It's your reward for finding the clues to solve this case."

"All right!" Mitch cried out as he ordered a double-dip hot fudge sundae with the works.

"Great!" George ordered the largest banana split on the menu.

As for Amy, she excitedly ordered a cherry parfait with lots of whip cream and nuts.

A few minutes later, the group was enjoying ice cream goodness. As Conan sipped his root beer float, he couldn't help but grin at his new life as Sherlock's apprentice. However, a sad thought crossed his mind and he wondered just how Rachael and her father were doing. Yesterday's embarrassing episode must have surely damaged if not destroyed any remaining credibility that Richard had as a detective.

* * *

The Moore Residence...

"I can't believe Holmes and those kids beat me out!" Moore lamented as he drowned his sorrows in another beer.

"Please Dad, you've got to stop." Rachael pleaded as she tried to keep her father from getting too drunk.

However at this point, Richard didn't care any more as he drained the can, then promptly passed out.

As she gazed upon her father with pity and disgust, she thought back to a certain missing member of their household. After seeing Conan in action at the Shinata Estate, she had no doubts that the youth had been somehow responsible for making Richard a great detective. At first, she didn't want to believe it, but by now, she couldn't deny it. And now, with Conan gone, her father was backsliding into his old persona as an incompetent drunk.

Yet, there were still so many unanswered questions. Why did Conan help her father in the first place? Where did he come from? And why did she always think about Jimmy Kudo whenever Conan was involved? Could he have something to do with Jimmy's absence.

Rachael felt tears welling up in her eyes as she left her father in his drunken stupor and went to her room. Then she let the tears flow freely as the Moore family sunk ever deeper into despair.

To be continued...

Well, for my first time in writing a mystery, I hope I didn't do too badly. It sounded like something out of Scooby-Doo but I think it was appropriate for the Junior Detective League. In any case, Moore is going to hit rock bottom pretty soon as I introduce the Detective of the West. See you there!


	6. Chapter 6, Part 1: East, West and Holmes...

**ELEMENTARY MY DEAR CONAN**

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century and Detective Conan (Case Closed) belong to their respective owners so it doesn't take a super-sleuth to determine that I am only writing this for fun.

: Thoughts

**Chapter 6**

**Part 1**

**East, West and Holmes, the Great Detective Trio**

"Well, Watson, what do you think?" Holmes asked as Watson had finished his scan on Conan's body.

The compu-droid lowered his scanner and nodded for the Little Detective to sit up and get dressed. "I must say, that Young Conan's condition is astonishing. I didn't think late 20th to early 21st Century science would be able to produce a cellular reduction drug."

"Cellular reduction drug?" Dr. Agasa asked.

"Indeed. This is not a case of age-reduction or youth potion, but a form of genetic restriction. Young Conan's first theory of being 'shrunk' is an accurate description of his present state. His personal DNA has not been altered, but it is unable to fully express his physical characteristics, which is why he appears to be a smaller version of his former adolescent self."

"Very fascinating." Agasa said as he pondered Watson's findings. "So I have been looking at his problem all wrong. I always thought that he had somehow been de-aged. I didn't consider the possibility that he was actually normal, (genetically speaking), only made smaller. Hmmm, perhaps all he needs are growth hormones to return him back to normal..."

"Too dangerous!" Watson said. "The practice of artificially administering growth hormones was banned in 2065 AD, when it was discovered that it had serious side-effects on the recipient's heart. Utilizing genetic manipulation and amino acid therapy was adopted as a safer method."

"So why don't you do the same for me?" Conan asked.

"For two reasons." Watson explained. "First of all, I lack both the knowledge and skill needed to perform such complex procedures. I have all the data on the functions and structure of the human body, in order to carry out medical treatments and repair. However this type of cellular manipulation is beyond my expertise. Secondly, the technology and materials needed for this process do not yet exist. The earliest forms of this kind of science will not appear until 2087 AD."

"I am afraid that he is right, Jimmy." Sherlock said as he knelt down beside his protégé. "If we had the means to return ourselves to our own time and world, we would have taken you with us. I am certain that Sir Evans Hargrave would have been able to reverse your diminutive stature."

"Who's he?" Conan inquired.

"He's the fine scientist who brought me back to the land of the living with his wondrous process of cellular reanimation. (1) I am certain that returning you to your proper body would be within his capabilities. I promise you that when we return to the 22nd Century, if you have not yet been returned to normal, we shall take you to him."

"Thanks..." The Little Detective bowed down his head sadly.

"Chin up, Young Conan. All is not completely lost." Watson said. "After analyzing your biological makeup, I believe that it is possible to temporarily offset the chemical imbalance of your cellular structure and return you back to normal."

Conan's head came up. "Really?"

"Mind you, this will only last a short while and I can only estimate the pain you will most likely endure with such a process. I can obtain the necessary chemicals needed, but I must have your full agreement to this experiment. How about it?"

Conan thought for a long while and weighed all of his options. To be normal again, even for a little while, would be a dream come true. However, it was also a tremendous risk. Then an image of Rachael appeared in his mind. He finally tell her how he felt in his real voice. With that, he made his decision.

"Let's do it."

* * *

A few days later...

"_**AH-CHOO!**_"

"Oh that's a fine how do you do!" Rachael said on the phone. "You're gone who-knows-where and for who-knows-how long and the first call you make to me in weeks, you sneeze in my face!"

"Rachael please! I'm really sick!" Conan groaned as he held his bowtie voice-emulator to his mouth and spoke into the phone.

"Oh go soak your head, Jimmy Kudo!"

**_CLICK!_**

Conan could only sigh in depression as he hung up the phone and faced Watson and Sherlock. Currently, he was lying on the couch. "Yeesh! She worries her head off when I don't call her and she BITES off my head when I do! If there's one mystery I'll never understand, it's how women think!"

"On that note, I will concur." Sherlock said with a smile as he thought about Inspector Lastrade. Female behavior was the one puzzle that no amount of observation and deduction could solve.

The Little Detective sniffled and coughed a bit before addressing Watson. "I guess I can't blame her for being upset. She's probably still worrying about her dad not getting any future cases and me not living there any more. Maybe seeing Jimmy Kudo in the flesh for a little while, will get her to smile again. Is that antidote ready Watson?"

The compu-droid nodded as he produced a small vial which contained a transparent, purple liquid. "Here it is. However, I am _MOST_ reluctant to give this to you in your weakened state. Your cold may react with this drug with serious, if not fatal complications. It would be for the best that we wait until your upper respiratory systems recover from the illness."

"Aw c'mon, Watson! You're from the 22nd Century! Surely by then, someone MUST have invented a cure for the common cold!"

"If someone had, I would have already given it to you." Watson pointed out. "Be patient, Young Conan. Just let the virus run its course. The antidote will still be waiting for you, when you are well."

"Why does everything have to take so long?" Conan groaned as he sneezed again. "I want to be Jimmy Kudo!"

"_WHERE ARE YOU JIMMY KUDO?!!_"

The sudden shout took the three of them by surprise as two people came up the stairs and office door was flung open.

In strode a confident teen of about seventeen years old. His skin was tanned and he was about the same height as Jimmy Kudo was before his encounter with the men in black. He was wearing casual street clothes and a baseball cap on his head. Slung over his right shoulder was a travel bag. Behind him was Rachael Moore, who was looking somewhat forlorn.

Sherlock hid his irritation over this interloper who wasn't even showing the slightest in proper manners. If there was one thing that could get even the slightest rise in his hackles, it was out-and-out rudeness.

Watson stepped forward. "Now see here, young man! What business do you have in barging into a person's abode, without even giving the slightest courtesy in knocking? Were you raised by wolves?"

The young man chuckled a bit as he looked Watson over, then turned to Sherlock. He chuckled again as he took in the appearance of the legendary detective and finally spoke. "I got to admit. You've got this Sherlock Holmes and Watson bit down pat. The clothes, the manners, the overblown pomposity of the sidekick. You must have read all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's books inside and out to be this accurate."

"Hmmm. And just who do you think you are, young man?" Sherlock asked nonchalantly as he looked over his unexpected visitor.

"You're the one who thinks he's Sherlock Holmes. Why don't you tell me?" The teen challenged with a slight sneer.

Sherlock gave the arrogant adolescent a stern look, which caused the teenager's confident expression to balk slightly. "Very well then. You hail from the western coast, from Osaka, if I am not mistaken. You practice Kendo on a regular basis. You came off the 3:15 train at the Juuban Station and had visited Titan High, then Richard Moore. On your way here, you had a hot dog with mustard, and sauerkraut. And finally, you have a bottle of liquor in your bag."

Sherlock casual response to his challenge made the young man's arrogant air waver a bit. He soon collected himself and said, "Lucky guess!"

Sherlock wagged a finger at him. "I do not guess. I deduce. Your tan indicates that you come from a hotter climate and you possess the slight, though unmistakable accent of an Osaka resident. Furthermore, your Jersey is that of a high school in Osaka."

The young man looked down at himself, then back at Sherlock, while reluctantly admitting. "Okay, I'll give you that, but how did you know that I did Kendo?"

"Simple enough." Holmes replied as he took hold of one of the stranger's hands and opened the palm. "These calluses on your hands indicate frequent gripping, and their location around the finger joints and outer edges of the palm tell me that you've been grasping at something cylindrical for long periods of time, such as the hilt of a bokken."

"I could have gotten them from holding a tennis racket you know." The stranger pointed out.

"Not likely." Sherlock pointed out as he took hold of the adolescent's other hand and held out both arms, making him place his bag on the floor. "The calluses are far too uniform to have been made by the rough surface of a tennis racket handle and the fact that you have an equal proportion of calluses on BOTH hands, means that you have been gripping something with your two hands simultaneously, such as your bokken. Tennis players generally develop calluses on ONE hand. Even players who are able to swing their rackets with either hand will always favor their predominant side slightly more." He released the teen's hands, then gestured with his cane toward the visitor's feet. "Also, take note of the stance you are in. To the untrained eye, it would appear that you are merely standing, but I notice that you are actually in a ready pose with your feet slightly bent outward, a classic Kendo stance. To be able to do so without thought indicates that you are well-practiced in the discipline."

The newcomer's eyes began to widen at Sherlock's display of careful observation and perceptive thought.

Sherlock nodded then continued. He started pointing at certain areas on the teen. He first started with the left pant pocket, which had a piece of paper protruding from it. "Here we have a ticket stub, which clearly states the time and station. You have a small piece of sauerkraut on your shoe and there's a mustard stain on your left sleeve cuff. As for the liquor, well the tag on the bottle is sticking out through the opening of the top zipper of your bag."

The stranger couldn't help but whistle in amazement. A tiny glint of admiration began to show in his eye.

"As for the rest of my deductions, well it is no secret that you're looking for the absent Jimmy Kudo, the high school detective. In order to find his whereabouts, you would naturally go to the places where has been. Titan High is the closest place near the train station. From there, you would have gotten information about Kudo's friends, which would have eventually led you to Richard Moore, due to Kudo's relationship with his daughter Rachael, hence the reason why she is with you. Now you are here because you have heard that I happen to know about Jimmy Kudo. How am I doing so far?"

"Heh, top notch. You really know how to play the part." The stranger said with some respect. "I'm here to see if Kudo is really as good a detective as people say he is, but it looks like I may have some competition in you, 'Mr. Holmes.' This could get interesting."

"And you fancy yourself to be a detective?"

"Heh, I think I have what it takes. The name's Harley Hartwell (2) but I'm better known as..."

"... the Great Detective of the West and son of Martin Hartwell, the chief of police of Osaka. Yes, I have heard of you." Sherlock finished. "Some say that you're the Kudo of the West."

"I'm always being compared to him, but I'll have you know that I'm a far better detective than Kudo." Harley insisted.

"That remains to be seen."

Sitting nearby, Conan grinned. Hearing Holmes praise him made him feel like he was floating on a cloud. Or was that the fever?

"**_AAAH-CHOO!_**"

On hearing him sneeze, Rachael rushed over and knelt down beside him. She placed a hand tenderly on his forehead. "Oh Conan, you poor thing! That sounds like a very nasty cold. Have you been getting enough vitamins?"

"I'll be... okay... Rachael? Why are you here?"

"I was... worried about you. I missed you. Things haven't been the same since you left to live with Mr. Holmes and... I also heard that Jimmy might be here. Inspector MacGuire told me that Mr. Holmes knew about Jimmy. Is he all right? I got a call from him today and it sounded like he had a cold like you do. Did he call from here?"

"Well... about Jimmy..." Conan began.

"Oh he's somewhere around here all right. The facts don't lie." Harley announced.

"And what facts might those be?" Sherlock inquired as he developed a slight interest in Harley.

The Detective of the West smirked as it was his turn to show off his abilities. "Rachael told me about the periodic phone calls she receives from Kudo, and I found it odd that they would talk about things like soccer, school and other mundane topics Not once did he ever ask her as to how she was doing. If he really was gone, and hasn't seen her in while, then wouldn't that be the first thing he would ask? If he calls her every now and then, then that means he's interested in her. Now if he doesn't ask about her, that can only mean... that he's watching her from some hidden place. And I have a feeling that you may know where he is. Well, Mr. Sherlock, am I getting warm?"

This time, it was Sherlock who was mildly impressed. _Hmmm, the kid's not bad._

At that moment, Rachael came up to Holmes and looked at him with pleading eyes. She clasped her hands together and said, "Please Mr. Holmes. If you know where Jimmy is, then tell me!"

Sherlock sighed as he shook his head. "I am sorry, Ms. Moore, but I cannot say. Jimmy has expressed his desire to remain... out of sight for the time being. However, I can say, with utmost the certainty, that he does hold very special feelings for you. It is up to him, whether or not he wishes to reveal himself to you."

"Hmmf! Just as I thought! Kudo's nothing but a coward!" Harley scoffed. "Looks like the only competition around here is you, Mr. Holmes."

"Now see here, Mr. Hartley!" Watson exclaimed. "We take great offense at your words! I expect an apology to your slander of our friend Jimmy Kudo!"

"Fine! I'll say sorry to him, face-to-face!"

At that moment, the office door swung open, and everyone looked toward the latest visitor, who happened to be a middle-aged woman.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" The woman asked.

* * *

After being given the lowdown by their newest client, Camiel Tarrington, Sherlock, Watson, and Conan went to accompany her to her home. As they rode in the limo, Sherlock looked over to his diminutive partner.

"Are you certain that you are up to the task, Conan? It's not too late to take you back home to rest. Watson and I can handle this case by ourselves."

Conan coughed a bit, then looked out the back window at the taxi that was following them. In it were Harley, Rachael and her father.

"I (cough)... have to be there. I want to see just what this Detective of the West can do. Besides, somebody's got to watch out (sniff)... for Rachael, especially if her father's coming along."

* * *

In the cab...

"Dad, you didn't have to come with us." Rachael said. She began to wish she hadn't told him of where she was going when Hartley invited her to come along.

"Nonsense! No mystery is too tough for the Great Richard Moore!" Richard insisted as he saw this case as a grand opportunity to finally get back into the game. It involved a high-level diplomat and solving the case would give him back his reputation as an ace detective. Plus, he had a chance to take Holmes, Conan and this new kid Hartley down a few notches.

Harley could only sigh in disgust. His initial impression of Rachael's father had been dead on. Richard was an absolute idiot. How this person ever achieved the rank of detective in the Tokyo police force was beyond him. He was a habitual drunk, judging by the amount of beer cans Hartley saw around Moore's office, an avid fan of Yoko Okino, a teen pop star, and his personality hinted at someone who was quick to make snap judgments and wild accusations.

For some time, Hartwell had suspected that Moore's recent rise and fall from fame had something to do with Jimmy Kudo's absence. After all, Moore didn't start to gain a reputation as an ace detective until AFTER Kudo had disappeared. And his methods of solving crimes had dramatically changed to a style that was similar to those belonging to the Detective of the East. That couldn't be just mere coincidence. Now with the rumors of Jimmy becoming allied with Sherlock Holmes, Richard Moore's so-called detective skills had suddenly become nonexistent. Once again, that couldn't be due to happenstance.

If Hartley was correct, then Kudo must have been hiding nearby and investigating the crimes, then giving Moore the hints so that he could publicly solve the mysteries and take the credit for himself. Now something must have happened to Kudo to have abandoned Moore to his own devices, and join up with this Sherlock Holmes pretender.

The Detective of the West then thought of his first impression of the legendary detective. Like Kudo, Harley was an avid fan of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's works. However, he was quite skeptical that the fictional main character could possibly be real. This person who was gaining fame as a detective was most likely either an actor or some eccentric detective who used the name of Sherlock as an alias.

Still, he had to admit, Sherlock had the goods as a detective. His observational skills and deductions, along with his mannerisms, made a small part of Harley believe that his idol had come forth from the pages of Doyle's writings. However, the more practical side of him knew that such a thing was impossible. After all, didn't Holmes' motto say that one should eliminate the impossible?

With the absence of his teenage rival, Harley now began to consider Holmes as a challenge and this upcoming case would be the perfect test between his abilities and this pretender to the throne. He'd also show up Jimmy Kudo, wherever he was. Who knows? He just might show up.

* * *

Later at the diplomat's home...

Things had gotten extremely hectic after Mrs. Tarrington unlocked the door to the room her husband was in and found him dead. The portly man keeled over and dropped to the floor after she had tried to rouse him from what appeared to be a deep slumber. Opera music was playing while stacks of books were piled on the desk. In minutes, the police had been called in.

Inspector Moore groaned slightly as he caught sight of Richard Moore. By now, he had little to no respect for the has-been detective, especially after that case that Holmes and Conan had solved with the help of the Junior Detective League. The media had a field day with that one. The Great Richard Moore couldn't solve a case that was found out by a group of Second Graders. Since he had been a former police detective, that embarrassment made the force look bad.

He perked up slightly as he saw Holmes and Conan already on the case, looking over the body and searching for evidence. He was a bit puzzled at the appearance of the newcomer, who reminded him of Jimmy Kudo. He too was also looking over the body and the surrounding area.

At that point, Moore ran up to him and saluted.

"Don't worry, Inspector! The Great Ace Detective Richard Moore will solve this case in no time!"

A large sweatdrop appeared behind McGuire's head as he thought, _Ace? More like the Joker of the deck._ Keeping professional in front of the victim's family, he cleared his voice and asked, "So Moore, did you find any evidence on Rudy Tarrington's body which suggested foul play?"

"No sir! No evidence whatsoever!"

"I cannot concur with your statement, Mr. Moore." Sherlock said as he stood up and directed everyone's attention to the corpse. "The signs of obvious villainy are all there. This is a murder, in which the weapon of choice was..."

"Poison!"

Sherlock was somewhat irritated when Harley interrupted, but decided to let the arrogant youth explain the reasons why Tarrington's demise was premeditated.

Harley smiled as he pointed to the victim's head and neck. "Look. The body's still warm and rigor mortis hasn't set in yet. He couldn't have been dead for more than 30 minutes. If you look closely, then you'll see a puncture wound on the neck near the right ear. A needle was found under the desk. His lips are turning purple as well as his fingertips. I'm willing to bet that his eyes are bloodshot. That's a sure sign of suffocation, which can only be achieved through drowning, strangulation, violence, trauma, and poison. He most likely instantly from the poison." He then gave Holmes a taunting expression.

Sherlock didn't even bat an eye as he turned to Watson. The compu-droid nodded at the silent question. "Mr. Hartwell's analysis of Mr. Tarrington's cause of death is accurate."

Harley chuckled slightly, then he continued. "Furthermore, since Tarrington had been killed very recently, it stands to reason that he had been murdered just moments before we arrived and by someone close by, perhaps someone within this very room."

This statement caused those gathered in the room to become edgy.

"Who the heck are you?" McGuire asked.

"His name is Harley Hartwell." Moore supplied.

"Hartwell?! I know you!" McGuire cried out. "You're the son of Martin Hartwell, the chief of police of Osaka!"

As McGuire and Harley talked, Holmes turned his attention toward his apprentice and nodded as Conan gazed upon the pile of music books on the desk, then toward the stereo.

_Very good, my student. Always look for that which does not fit a pattern. It is always worth investigation._

At that point, Conan began to watch Rachael, who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. He could guess as to what, or rather whom she was thinking of. His heart went out to her and he wished he could ease the sadness in her soul.

However, he had to focus on the case at hand and turned his attention back toward McGuire as he began questioning the family members. It was discovered the there had been only two keys to the room and Mrs. Tarrington had one and her husband kept the other in his pants' pocket. When McGuire checked the pockets of the late Rudy Tarrington, the key fell out from the inner pocket and jingled as they hit the floor. Everyone gasped at the sight, except for Richard Moore...

"What's the big deal?"

Sherlock let off a sigh of exasperation. How could Moore not get something so obvious? He gave a whole new meaning to the word simpleton. "Mr. Moore, surely you remember that the door was LOCKED when we arrived? Mrs. Tarrington used her key to open the door and we FOUND Mr. Tarrington with the second key."

"Uh..."

Harley also let off a sigh. "Don't you get it? How could the killer have locked the door behind him, if Tarrington had the only other set of keys?" He then drew himself up to his full height. "What we're looking at here is an impossible crime!"

When the Detective of the West saw Moore's puzzled expression become even more lost, he knew that his hypothesis was correct. Moore was nothing but a fake and the real genius behind his fame was somewhere nearby. He smiled as he then turned his attention to Sherlock Holmes. The look of contemplation on Sherlock's face was genuine and Harley knew that he had some serious competition. Well he'd show everyone who was the real sleuth. Once he cracked this case, people will start calling Jimmy as the Harley of the East.

* * *

Conan squinted hard as McGuire questioned each of the family members and their alibis. He became especially interested when McGuire held up a family photo that had been taken 20 years ago. However, as his vision blurred, he began to feel nauseous and his sense of balance was thrown out of whack.

When one of the investigating officers showed the victim's key to McGuire to display a new development, (which was a piece of tape inside the keychain holder), Conan strained to keep conscious. Watson and Rachael immediately came to his side as he started to topple forward.

"Young Conan!"

The compu-droid caught the boy in his arms as Rachael put her hand on his forehead.

"He's burning up with fever!"

At that moment, Harley got a flash of inspiration and ran out of the room. Sherlock made no attempt to follow him, and instead walked toward Watson with concern. Conan was cradled gently in the machine man's arms. His breathing had become a little shallow.

"I fear that my disciple cannot continue with this case, Watson. You will look after him, while I finish with this investigation?"

"But of course, Holmes!" Watson vowed as he began to carry Conan away to a place where he could rest. Rachael followed him as she too was concerned.

Conan reached out toward his idol and said in a weak tone, "Sh-Sherlock... the music... books... key... picture..."

The legendary detective nodded as he whispered to his pupil. "Yes, I came to the same conclusion. Your keen eye for detail has served you well. Superb detective work!"

* * *

Rachael placed a cold towel on Conan's forehead as he lay on a bed in an unused room of the Tarrington home. Behind her, Watson stood by and watched for any change in the boy's condition. Currently, it looked as if he had fallen asleep.

"Will he be all right, Watson?" Moore's daughter asked.

The compu-droid nodded. "I am certain that he will recover. It's just bad luck that his cold has reached its worst at this point in time. He may have come down with slight pneumonia, but I assure you, that his condition will improve." Watson had managed to take a quick scan of his patient when Rachael's back had been turned.

Rachael became silent for a while, then decided to find out something that had been bothering her. "Watson, tell me the truth. Is Conan a really good detective?"

"I should think so, since he is being tutored by Holmes himself and..."

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, did he already have a lot of talent before he met with Sherlock?"

Watson did not like the way this conversation was heading, especially after being told not to reveal anything about Conan's connection with Jimmy Kudo. However, it was getting hard to keep the secret as it seemed that Rachael was beginning to suspect...

She let off a sad sigh and continued. "It's... something that I've been wondering about since he left to go live with you and Holmes. Dad hasn't been able to solve any cases since Conan left and I think it's because... he couldn't. Not without him. Now that I think about it, Conan was always there when Dad found the answers to all of those mysteries. He'd say or do something that would give Dad the clue he needed. And then there were all those times when my father would go to sleep and still be able to crack the case. It was as if someone else had been talking in his place... then I found this on Conan when I took off his jacket."

"Oh my." Watson said as Rachael held up Conan's bowtie... with the voice-emulator exposed.

"This is one of Dr. Agasa's inventions, isn't it? This looks like a speaker. That's how my Dad seemed to talk, even when he was out of it. Conan used this to imitate my Dad and explain the crimes, didn't he?" She let the device slip from her hand and drop to the floor. She bowed her head down, and her body shuddered. Tears began to form and her voice started to tremble.

"Ms. Moore..."

The young girl shook her head and continued. "It's all true isn't it? My father's nothing but a fake! A fraud! He wasn't the real detective, Conan was! He solved the crimes and my father grabbed all the glory! I wondered what Conan meant when he told my Dad to solve his own cases, and now I understand!"

Rachael then began to sob uncontrollably as she held her face in her hands. Watson could only offer her a shoulder to cry on as he took her into his arms and let her weep into the front of his coat.

"You're... not going to... deny it?" She asked between sobs.

"I see little point in denying the truth that you have just realized, Ms. Moore."

"The truth..." Rachael raised her face and smiled slightly, despite her tears. "Jimmy always said that one truth prevails. I understand that now. The truth had been staring into my face for a while, and it's taken me this long to accept it." She then buried her face into his chest and began sobbing anew. "I wish Jimmy was here now... (sob)... if he really... (sniff)... cares about me... (sob)... he should be here! Why?! Why won't he come back!? Is Harley right? Is he just... spying on me?! Making fun of me?!"

"There, there Ms. Moore." Watson said as he gently patted her back. "I am certain that Mr. Kudo does care very deeply about you and that he will return... when the time is right."

At that moment, Conan's eyes opened and saw Rachael in tears. He had heard everything. The sight of her in such a state wrenched at his heart and prompted him to make a decision.

* * *

After Rachael had calmed down and left to check up on Holmes and Hartley, Watson was most surprised when Conan sat up and made a request.

"You want me to give it to you now?! Do you have any idea as to what you are asking?!"

The Little Detective nodded as he once again made the request. As Watson balked, Conan reminded the compu-droid that it was his choice and that Sherlock had left the decision up to him.

After a minute of intense debate, Watson could only shake his head in resignation as he reached into his coat pocket and took out a certain vial...

* * *

Meanwhile...

"And voila! The key slips into the victim's pocket and a tug on the line snaps it free from the tape. All the killer has to do is reel it in and no more evidence." Harley said with a flourish.

"Well I'll be darned." McGuire exclaimed as he and Moore were astounded at Hartley's explanation of the Sealed Room trick. (3) Everyone else, including Rachael, who had now joined them, were similarly astonished. Standing nearby, with a mild expression of amusement on his face, was Sherlock Holmes.

"I must admit, that is quite a bit of imaginative thinking, Mr. Hartley. Now I suppose that you have also deduced the identity of the murderer?"

Harley snorted as he gave Sherlock an arrogant look. He knew that he had this case in the bag. The great 'Sherlock' didn't even bother to go look for clues in the room where the victim's father had been in. All he did was stand and watch as the Detective of the West beat both him and that second-rate Jimmy Kudo.

"The murderer can only be... YOU!" Harley said in triumph as he pointed to the victim's father, Theodore Tarrington. "You were the only one who had enough time to have committed the murder. I found this fishing wire in the trash bin, which fits in with your hobby of fishing. You were sloppy in trying to dispose of the evidence. The game's over! You might as well admit it!"

The elder Tarrington bowed his head sadly and nodded. "You've got me. I murdered my own son..."

"And that's all she wrote." Harley said in triumph.

At that moment, some light applause was heard and everyone looked in Sherlock's direction. The detective was slowly and deliberately clapping his hands as he casually leaned against a bookcase.

Harley thought that his competitor was being a sore loser and decided to rub it in. "Please, I don't need any applause for my skills. I know I'm good and I suppose even the great Sherlock Holmes can't solve every crime."

Sherlock chuckled as he stood up and faced the arrogant punk. "Oh I'm not applauding your skills, Mr. Hartley. I am applauding the amusement you have provided with your ignorance."

"What are you talking about...?!"

The Detective of the West was cut off in mid-protest when Holmes stabbed a finger in front of his face and gave him a stern expression. "You showed some considerable promise when we first met, but you had totally forgotten the fundamentals of being a detective during the course of this investigation."

"What do you mean I forgot something?! What did I forget to do?" Harley demanded.

"Careful observation and deduction my boy. In other words, you didn't use your eyes and your brains. For example, your explanation of the Sealed Room trick, though well-thought out and nicely demonstrated, is undeniably flawed."

"Now hold on a minute, Holmes." McGuire cut in. "Harley's explanation worked. You take the needle and wire..."

Holmes waved a hand. "Yes, yes, I know the mechanics of the trick. I saw it as well, so there is no need to explain it again. However, as I recall, the key was found in the victim's inner pocket. Are you so certain that Mr. Harley's theory is correct?"

"What are you talking about?!" Harley said angrily as he walked over to McGuire and reached for the pocket with the key in it. "See for yourself! Here's the key, right in the inner...?"

Much to everyone's surprise, as Harley turned the pocket inside out and the key fell out and landed on the floor. However, it had not been inside the inner pocket but rather the larger pocket.

"No way! I threaded that wire through the inner pocket! I'm sure of it!"

Holmes wagged his index finger at Hartley. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. How very sloppy. If you had truly thought about it, then you would have realized that in a sitting position, the passage toward the inner pocket becomes narrower and bent. It is made even more difficult if the person wearing those pants happen to have, shall we say a generous waistline?"

"I guess that's a polite way of saying that I need to go on a diet." McGuire remarked. "Then again, I do remember that Rudy Tarrington's pants were pretty tight."

"It might be unlikely, but there's a chance that it could have worked..." Harley began, then was cut off again by Holmes.

"Do NOT grasp at straws or make excuses for incorrect deductions, Mr. Hartley. That is most unbecoming of a proper detective. And I should remind you not to confuse the impossible for the improbable."

Harley felt as if he had been slapped. However, there was just something about Holmes that made him so compelling.

Sherlock then continued. "If you had been using your eyes in the beginning, then you would have seen another detail that would have invalidated your Sealed Room trick. Did you not notice how the key were found in the victim's inner pocket?"

"What difference does it make how they were...?" The young investigator's voice trailed off as he recalled how the key fell out of Tarrington's trousers.

The legendary detective nodded as he saw his expression. "Exactly. The key were neatly folded and tucked away in the inner pocket. Your explanation of how to put the key in the pocket would have only had the keychain inside that tiny space, with the key hanging out. The only way the key could have been the way it was found was that the killer had placed it in by hand. Such a simple concept and you missed it completely."

"Well, what about the fishing wire and needle that I found in the trash where Theodore Tarrrington had been in?"

"Oh come now. Use your _BRAINS_! Do you actually believe that someone who could think up an elaborate plan as the Sealed Room would so carelessly leave such incriminating evidence where anyone could find it? If an investigator could theorize the Sealed Room method, then wouldn't he logically look for the type of evidence to confirm it? Obviously, you did so, without considering the questions and details that I have already pointed out. You rushed through the investigation to satisfy your ego and that is nearly as bad as the crime itself. The so-called evidence you had found had merely been bait to place the blame on Mr. Tarrington's father. How appropriate to have used fishing wire and like a hungry trout, you snapped it up. I would wager that if we were to search the other rooms, then we would also find the same evidence."

"Indeed."

As if on cue, Watson entered the room. In his hand were several lengths of fishing wire. He placed them in Holmes' hands and turned to face the others.

"The other rooms have been searched and as you had suspected, identical sets of wire and needles were found in the trash receptacles. Obviously, whoever had done this went to great lengths to frame the elder Tarrington, no matter which room he went into."

"As I thought." Sherlock said as he placed the materials on the desk. "Though I am glad that you are here, Watson, I am curious. What prompted you to investigate the other rooms? Shouldn't you be watching over our young detective?"

"In truth, I did not perform the room searches, Holmes. It was our _OTHER_ associate."

"Other associate? Ah, I see." Sherlock smiled as he got the hidden meaning, then noticed a shadow at the edge of the door. "Well then, we should let our other associate pick up where I left off." He called out toward the door. "How about it, Mr. Kudo?"

At that moment, the Detective of the East walked into the room. He was dressed casually in his school uniform with the white shirt un-tucked. He was a bit unsteady and was sweating. He smiled as he said to his mentor...

"It would be my pleasure, Sherlock Holmes."

To be continued...

Author's Notes

Yeah, I'm a bit of a louse for leaving you hanging like this, but it was so long, that I had to cut it off somewhere. In part 2, we conclude with this case and a few twists that you won't be expecting. See you there!

(1) The first episode of Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century.

(2) Yeah, I know that English name stinks, but it's easier for me to write.

(3) Fans remember this from No Immunity for the Diplomat Part 1.


	7. Chapter 6, Part 2: There’s Something I W...

**ELEMENTARY MY DEAR CONAN**

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century, and Detective Conan (Case Closed), belong to their own creators and one should not assume that I am writing for money.

: Thoughts

**Chapter 6**

**Part 2**

**There's Something I Want to Tell You...**

"_KUDO?!_" McGuire gasped as he and Richard were stunned beyond belief. Harley was also in a state of shock.

As for Rachael, she couldn't believe that after months of waiting and praying, her dream had finally come true. Jimmy was back! Tears began to well up in her eyes again as she slowly approached him, fearing that he might disappear from her life again. When she reached out and touched his shoulder, her heart skipped a beat. He was real and now she could finally speak to him face-to-face. And the first thing she said was...

"_WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?! YOU JUST UP AND DISAPPEAR AND NOW YOU'RE BACK AGAIN?! I... WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU..._"

Jimmy smiled as he gazed upon her and admired her spirit. "Hey Rachael, you don't need to cry."

"I'm... not crying!" She insisted, as she tried to hold back the tears, by using her hands to hide her feet.

Jimmy stepped forward and tenderly placed a hand on her right cheek, causing her to look into his eyes. He gave her a reassuring nod and then walked past her to address his rival from Osaka. Without looking over his shoulder, he said to her, "Hang on, Rachael. This shouldn't take long."

Rachael wiped away her tears and kept her eyes on him. She then noticed that his face was flushed and sweat was on his brow. Remembering that he had sounded sick on his last phone call to her, she became concerned for his health.

Sherlock gave his disciple a nod and said, "The ball is in your court, my boy. Make me proud."

Jimmy smiled as he faced Harley with a knowing look. However, his rival still proved to be stubborn as he looked eyes with him.

"Whatever you're going to say Kudo, it won't work! Theodore Tarrington already confessed to the crime!"

Jimmy shook his head and responded in a firm tone. "You really are a sore loser, Hartwell. Holmes already proved that your deductions were impossible. And like he always says, once you eliminate the impossible, then whatever is left, no matter how improbable it may seem, must be the truth. The so-called evidence you found was just bait to implicate the old man as the killer. Theodore Tarrington knew he was being set up, but he just went along with it anyway. And you're probably asking yourself as to why would he do that. The answer would be quite obvious. He knows who really killed his son, but he decided to take the rap for some reason. In any case, that Sealed Room bit was just a diversion to throw everyone off the true killer's trail. The real trick of how the crime was committed is far more disturbing."

"What do you mean, real trick?" The Detective of the West asked.

"Huh. Like Sherlock said, you really didn't use your eyes and your brains. Don't you remember the stacks of books piled high on the desk and the loud opera music being played when you came into the room? Now one has to wonder why that stack was composed of unrelated titles and the music was being played loud enough to drown out all other noises. Then it dawned on me as I considered the position of the stack, which blocked Rudy's Tarrington's face from view. A person standing at the door, wouldn't be able to see his expression... especially when he was stabbed with the poisoned needle. And the opera music would perfectly hide any screams he made."

"What?! That doesn't make any sense! If what you're saying is true, then that means..." A small drop of sweat rolled down from Harley right temple as he realized what his rival was saying.

The Detective of the East nodded. "Exactly. This was all an elaborate scheme to fool everyone; you, Rachael, her father, Inspector McGuire and anyone else who entered the room, that Rudy Tarrington was already dead. Your theory of the Sealed Room trick was based on the assumption that the victim had been killed, _BEFORE_ you had arrived on the scene. As Mr. Holmes has always told me and Conan, never to base one's theory on an assumption."

"Well done, Jimmy!" Sherlock praised as he walked over and stood beside him. "And now, with all the evidence that has been presented and the observations that we have both made, there can only be _ONE_ conclusion that a proper detective can make from all of this."

"You know it, Sherlock. The one who murdered Rudy Tarrington, was also the first person to approach the body, so..."

"... the murderer is none other than..."

Both detectives raised their right arms and pointed with their index fingers at the same person, which was Rudy Tarrington's wife Camiel.

"You!" Jimmy and Sherlock said simultaneously.

Everyone was put in a state of disbelief as Mrs. Tarrington stiffened and became pale.

"My word! How horrendous!" Watson exclaimed.

"Indeed it was." Sherlock agreed. "To think that she would commit murder right in front of witnesses and planned to get away with it! It is quite despicable."

By now, Richard had finally caught on as he said in a shocked tone. "He... was still alive! She killed him right in front of us!"

"I see that you are finally catching on, Detective Moore." Holmes remarked. _Perhaps there is hope for you._

"Yeah, Rudy Tarrington had been asleep before." Jimmy stated. "He was probably drugged by his wife with a sedative or sleeping pills. Then, when she went over to wake him up, she pricked him with the poisoned needle. He died instantly and the books and music covered up any screams or expressions of pain."

"Hold on a minute!" McGuire interrupted. "Wouldn't an autopsy revealed the presence of any sedatives or sleeping pills?"

"Yeah, they would have." Harley agreed as he too understood what Holmes and Kudo were saying. "But as far as anyone was concerned, finding those drugs would have not have helped uncover the truth. Investigators would assume that the killer had used the drugs to subdue Mr. Tarrington, then used the poisoned needle to kill him. The Sealed Door trick was set up to throw people off the trail and the planted evidence was to incriminate Theodore Tarrington. Thus, the criminal becomes free of suspicion while an innocent man was framed. That about sum it up?"

"Perhaps I was hasty in my assessment of your skills, Mr. Hartley." Sherlock said. "It seems that you are capable of using your eyes and your brains after all."

"I guess I deserved that." Harley admitted as he had developed some new respect for Holmes. "But I do remember using my eyes when we came into this room. Mrs. Tarrington didn't have the poisoned needle in her hands when she approached her husband. All she had was..." He then let his voice trail off as he saw an image in his mind.

"Yes?" Holmes asked innocently.

Hartley swore-snapped his fingers as he picked up the key on the floor, and continued. "... all she had was her key to his room. It was an exact copy of this one, complete with a keychain holder that opens up like this." He then opened the holder, showing the two halves, then looked back at Holmes. "The murder weapon was in her hands all along, wasn't it?"

"Now you are truly using your eyes and your brains." Holmes said as he walked over to Mrs. Tarrington, then gestured to Inspector McGuire to join him. With a nod of his head, he indicated toward Camiel's handbag. McGuire understood the silent message and instructed the woman to give him her key. Reluctantly, she did so and McGuire opened up the keychain holder. To his surprise he saw a groove engraved in one half of the holder.

"Huh? What's this?" The Inspector asked.

"The perfect hiding place for a poisoned needle." Holmes said as he looked back to his disciple. "What do you think, Jimmy?"

"Well, I'd guess that you'd find traces of Caster Bean extract on that keychain holder. That would probably be what she used to kill her husband."

"I'm not sure how you'd know that, Kudo, but I'll have the boys in forensics check it out."

Kudo smiled and silently thanked the Holo-Learner that Holmes had lent to him. He had just seen through a vid on various poisons and their effects on the human body.

"But why would she kill her own husband? What was the motive?" Harley asked.

Sherlock gave him a smile as he walked over to the bookcase where the family picture was. "Ah yes, the motive. The driving force behind any crime, and the one thing that your investigation left out."

Harley couldn't believe how smooth and cool Holmes was. If he didn't know better, he could swear that Holmes _LIVED_ for solving difficult cases. Sherlock had taken apart his Sealed Room deduction like it was nothing, and pointed out vital clues with amazing effortlessness. How did he do it? How did he make it look so easy? It was as if this person truly was... _THE_ Sherlock Holmes.

The Great Detective of the West found himself humbled in the presence of the absolute master of deduction.

"And here is your motive." Sherlock announced as he held out the picture of the Tarrington family. "Please note the young woman depicted in this photo. She is of course, Mrs. Tarrington some twenty years ago. Doesn't she look familiar?"

Rachael gasped as she recognized the resemblance between the young version of Camiel Carrington and the young woman who was going to marry Rudy Tarrington's son.

Jimmy smiled as he stood beside his mentor and said to Harley, "It can be nothing else, but elementary my dear Hartwell. This woman happens to be Camiel Tarrington's biological daughter."

Holmes then pointed to Mrs. Tarrington while addressing Harley. "And, as you had said, Mr. Hartley, that is all SHE wrote."

After Mrs. Carrington confessed and gave some parting words to her daughter and fiancé, and then being taken away by the police, Harley and Rachael took Jimmy aside for some answers. (1)

"So Kudo, for a guy who came in late in a case, you sure knew a lot about what was going on. Fess up. You were hiding nearby and watching all the time, weren't you?" Harley demanded.

Jimmy wasn't feeling fully up to snuff as he leaned against the bookcase for support. He had just gotten his adolescent body back and having his center of gravity so high still took some getting used to. He was still feeling the effects of his illness as well. The antidote Watson had given to him had worked, but the pain he suffered when his body was forced to grow had been excruciating. Still, everything he had endured had been worth it to see Rachael's eyes light up when she saw him as he truly was.

But now time was running out. As Watson had warned, the antidote was only temporary and he could already feel his body begin to contract and compress. It was like taking that damned poison that shrunk him all over again. His body temperature was rising and his bones felt as if they were melting. The effect of Watson's antidote was wearing off.

He needed to talk to her, say to her the words he had been keeping within his heart for so long. He wanted to say those words with his own voice, and not with his voice-emulator bowtie. He only needed just a little more time...

"Well?! Are you going to answer, Jimmy Kudo?" Rachael demanded.

Jimmy's breathing began to become shallow as he forced himself to stand. He called out to his mentor as his tone became desperate.

"Sherlock... I need to speak with Rachael... alone!"

This took Rachael by surprise. Jimmy actually wanted to speak to her in private? After all those times he avoided her, now he wanted to be only with her? What was going on?

When Jimmy began trembling even more, Richard Moore's daughter began to worry even more. Was he sicker than she thought? Was he...?

The great detective looked upon his protégé with concern, then looked to his robotic partner. "Watson?"

The compu-droid shook his head and replied. "He doesn't have much time left. I estimate that he has just over ten minutes before..."

"Before what?" Rachael cried out as her anger over Jimmy was instantly forgotten. As she looked back at Jimmy, her fears began rise. What did Watson mean that Jimmy only had ten minutes left? Did that mean... he was dying? Was he trying to tell her that he was about to...? _NO!_ It couldn't be true! He had finally come back to her! She hadn't seen him since that fateful day at the amusement park during their first date. She couldn't lose him now!

"Hey, Kudo you better start explaining yourself!" Harley demanded as he gave his rival a suspicious look.

Jimmy gave Holmes a pleading look and said, "Please, Mr. Holmes. Just give me... eight minutes. That should be enough time... okay?"

Sherlock gave his pupil another look and saw the determined expression on his face. Then he nodded and began addressing everyone.

"It seems that my disciple wishes to have a few words with Ms. Moore in private. In consideration for all that he has done in solving this case, I think that giving him a few moments alone with her is not asking too much. Now come, we should give them their privacy."

"Come along." Watson said as he gently pushed Moore, McGuire and Harley out toward the door. "Let us go now."

"Hey! Now wait a minute!" Harley objected as he was being quietly but firmly shoved out of the room. He tried to push back, but Watson seemed to be a _LOT_ stronger than he appeared.

Then he felt another firm hand taking hold of his arm. He then saw Mr. Holmes smiling at him as he helped his associate clear the room.

"Are you going to be all right Rachael?" Richard asked.

His daughter took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll be fine Dad. I guess Jimmy and I need some time to catch up on a few things. We'll join everyone soon."

As soon as the door closed, then Rachael and Jimmy faced each other for the first time in a long time. Nothing was said between them for what seemed to be an eternity, but was only for a heartbeat. Then Jimmy broke the silence.

"It's really good to see you Rachael. I missed you."

Rachael couldn't hold it back any more as she ran toward and hugged with a grip that threatened to break all of his ribs. She began crying into his chest as she sobbed her response.

"You dummy! (sniff) I missed you too! I missed you so much! I was beginning to think I'd never see you again! (sob) You disappeared that night at the amusement park and I thought you were gone forever! Where were you all this time, Jimmy? Were you spying on me like Harley said? Are you... are you dying?"

"No! No! Rachael, I wasn't spying and I'm not dying! I'm fine! I mean... something happened and I got wrapped up in a case and... well..."

Rachael pushed away from him and angrily looked into his eyes. "Stop lying to me! I'm not going to take any more of your excuses! I want to know the truth! If you really care about me, then you'll tell me!"

Jimmy looked deeply into her tearful eyes and knew that he couldn't deny her any more. He then framed her face between his hands and drew her closer.

Rachael's eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat as their faces drew nearer. "J-Jimmy?"

He gave her a whimsical smile as he paused and said, "I'm always saying that one truth prevails and there's one truth that I've finally decided to accept. Rachael Moore... I... I... I love you."

At that point, Rachael was feeling as if she was floating on air, then nothing else mattered as her lips and Jimmy's pressed against each other in their first kiss. (2)

Meanwhile, outside in the hallway, Sherlock secretly conferred with Watson.

"How much time does he have left, Watson?"

"About seven minutes. Holmes, we must do something or Miss Moore and everyone else will learn about..."

"I know Watson. We must somehow provide a distraction. Kudo asked for eight minutes. He has five left. Do you think you could find the main power lines and cause a blackout in five minutes?"

"Not a problem." Watson said as he used his scanners to find the fusebox. "I have located the power box and cutoff switch. I should be able to provide Kudo with the diversion that he needs."

"Go to it, Watson."

The compu-droid nodded as he headed down the hall. Harley then came up to him.

"Ah, Mr. Hartwell. Can I help you?"

"Who are you? I mean, really?" The Detective of the West asked as he gave Sherlock a suspicious look.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You can't be who you say you are."

"And why not, may I ask?"

Hartwell gave off a disdainful snort and replied. "Oh come on now. You can't really be THE Sherlock Holmes! I mean, he's a fictional character for crying out loud!"

"And your point is?"

"You can't possibly be him! Sir Arthur Conan Doyle made him up! Nobody could be as good as a detective as Sherlock Holmes!"

"Ah, you are making the same mistake as before, Mr. Hartwell. Did you learn nothing from this case?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You are making assumptions and basing your deductions on them. Did you not hear what Jimmy Kudo and I had said? When you eliminate the impossible..."

"Yeah, I know. Whatever remains, no matter how improbable it may seem, must be the truth. Are you saying that it's possible that you're actually somebody that's supposed to be make-believe?"

"I have never claimed to be anyone else, now have I?" Sherlock then gave Harley a pat on the shoulder. "You do have considerable promise as a detective, young man. Your observational and deductive skills are quite impressive, so long as you do not let your ego get in the way of your investigations. If I had met you before I came across my current two disciples, then I would have considered you as a student."

"Really? So you think I'm as good as Kudo?"  
"Do not let that praise go to your head, Mr. Hartwell, lest it interferes with your future cases. Carelessness and snap judgments are to be avoided, especially in our line of work. Patience and discipline are key to solving complex riddles, as well as keeping focused and alert for details. Unless you wish to become like Richard Moore."

"Ugh! Now there's a scary thought! So you don't believe that he solved all of those cases either, now do you?"

"I must admit, it was rather puzzling when I first read about Moore's unusual string of successes."

"I knew it! I mean, how could someone like him suddenly go from zero to hero, unless he had help? I figure that Kudo had something to do with it. Moore started solving cases soon after Jimmy disappeared. Now I figure that he was secretly watching Moore during his cases, then solves the crime. Afterwards, he gives the hints to Moore, and Moore takes the credit for solving the cases. What do you think?"

"I must say, the scenario you've created does sound plausible and within the realm of possibilities. Now, do you have any evidence to back up your hypothesis?"

"Heh, I think today can be considered as evidence. Moore was totally lost on this case and didn't know squat. And lately, he hasn't been able to solve any other cases. Now that I know that Jimmy is your student, I can safely say that Moore had lost his secret weapon to solving crimes. Am I getting warm?"

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at Harley's intuition. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he noted the time on a nearby grandfather clock. Watson would be cutting off the power, right about... now.

Suddenly, the whole house was plunged into darkness. Then a shout was heard...

"_YOU'RE NOT LEAVING ME AGAIN, JIMMY KUDO!_"

A few minutes before the blackout...

"Rachael?"

"Hmmm?" The girl mumbled as she continued to snuggle up against his chest. She figured that Jimmy could explain about his absence later. She just wanted to stay in his arms for a while. After all, this wonderful detective had just said he loved her! She could show up her friend Serena at school tomorrow while holding onto Jimmy's arm!

However, the mood was to be broken as Jimmy reluctantly pushed her away. His expression turned to one of great sadness as he said, "Rachael, I'm so sorry, but I have to get going now."

"What? What do you mean? You finally come back into life, say you love me, and now you have to go again?"

"I don't want to go. I really don't... but I have to. There's so much I want to tell you, but I can't... not now. I just wanted to let you know how I felt about you before I..."

"Before what? Is it another case? Can't it wait until tomorrow? Can't you turn it down?"

Then suddenly, Jimmy felt his body begin to convulse and his heart started to pound. He knew that his time was up as his breathing became irregular.

_No! Not now! The antidote is wearing off! I can't let Rachael see me turn into Conan! I've got to get away! But how?_

Just then, the lights went off, which gave Jimmy the opportunity to break away from Rachael's embrace. Tears began to stream down his cheeks as he said his farewells.

"I'll see you soon, Rachael. Goodbye..."

He then started to run toward the door.

Rachael however, proved to be very stubborn as she reached out for him.

"_JIMMY! DON'T GO! COME BACK!_"

She managed to grab hold of Jimmy's left hand and using her knowledge of judo, she managed to twist him about. She then lunged and the momentum caused the both of them to tumble to the floor. She then threw her arms around his torso and held on with all of her strength.

"_YOU'RE NOT LEAVING ME AGAIN, JIMMY KUDO!_"

Then something strange happened. Jimmy suddenly began to become smaller in her arms, like he was melting. She increased her hold on him, but as his form diminished, it became harder for her to keep him pinned down. Then as they flailed about on the floor, Jimmy bumped his head against one of the desk's legs and cried out.

"_OW!_"

Rachael was shocked as she recognized the voice. It was a higher tone than Jimmy's and when she heard it, she stiffened up. Then two people came in with a flashlights. They shone their beams toward the floor and that's when Rachael saw his face.

"C-Conan? But... Jimmy... you... how... you're... him? What's going on?"

At the doorway, Sherlock and Watson could only stand helplessly as Rachael Moore spoke in a quiet and stunned whisper...

"Jimmy Kudo... is Conan Edogawa?!"

To be continued...

Author's Notes

Yeah, I must be really evil to leave you all hanging like this, but hey, it's my story. And as I said before, things are going to get hairy in the near future. In any case, next chapter, Rachael and Conan are going to have a long talk and we're going to have some more of the Great Detective of the West. See you there.

(1) For those of you who are wondering, the motive can be found in No Immunity for the Diplomat part 2.

(2) Okay, okay, I admit it. I'm a bit of a romantic at heart and I needed to put in a little mush now and then.


	8. Chapter 7: Eyes, Brains and Heart

**ELEMENTARY MY DEAR CONAN**

Disclaimer: Detective Conan (Case Closed) and Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century belong to their respective creators, so one can get a clue that I'm only writing this for fun.

: Thoughts

**Chapter 7**

**Eyes, Brains and Heart**

The Tarrington residence...

"No... Jimmy... you're... Conan?! But that's... impossible.... what...?"

Zap!

Rachael Moore suddenly stiffened and her eyes widened slightly as a small blue flash appeared behind her. Her body then became limp as she collapsed on top of Conan's smaller form and was immediately unconscious. As the Little Detective looked up in confusion, he saw Watson standing over them and shook his head sadly. His right hand was uncovered, and the built-in stun beam blaster was extended from his wrist.

"Forgive me, Young Conan, but Miss Moore left me with no other options. She has seen too much. I assure you that she will recover shortly with no ill effects." He then turned to Sherlock. "But I am most concerned with what to do when she does regain consciousness."

Sherlock nodded. "Indeed. It seems we may have to take her with us for now."

"Huh? How are we going to do that?" Conan asked as he struggled to free himself from under Rachael's prone form. With supreme effort, he managed to wriggle out, but he was still feeling the effects of the cold he was under. He woozily got to his feet and that was when the lights were turned back on. Then he stiffened as he heard footsteps coming down the hall and toward the room. He looked down at himself and realized that he was still wearing his full-sized clothes. If Harley were to see him, it wouldn't take much to put two and two together. Even Richard Moore might be able to figure things out.

"Watson..." Sherlock said to his compatriot.

"At once Holmes!" The compu-droid then directed his arm at Rachael and Conan. A flash of light enveloped the both of them, then the door was flung open.

Richard came into the room and looked toward Sherlock, Watson and...

Conan shrunk away from Rachael's father, and Harley, who was just behind him. Then he noticed something strange. Richard and Harley wasn't looking at him nor Rachael's unconscious form on the floor. In fact, they were both addressing Sherlock and... Rachael?

_Wait a minute... Rachael's right over there... so who's that?_

Sherlock smiled as Watson's holographic projector had done its job. He had cloaked Conan and Rachael from sight, and was now using a lifelike image of Rachael to fool her father and Kudo's rival.

"Jimmy you jerk, where did you go?!" The projected likeness of Rachael Moore screamed as she looked about for the absent Detective of the East.

Sherlock played his part by addressing the hologram in a sincere tone. "I am terribly sorry, Ms. Moore, but I'm afraid that my disciple had to rush off to another case. However, he wishes to send his warmest regards and promises that he will see you again."

* * *

Later...

"I'll be fine Dad. I'll see you later."

Though Richard didn't like the idea of his daughter spending time with Holmes, he had agreed to allow Rachael to accompany Sherlock, Watson and Conan back to his office. Once everyone had left the premises, Watson then dropped the holographic projection and let the real truth appear. Rachael was still unconscious as she was secretly removed from the premises and transported to Sherlock, Watson, and Conan's place of residence.

When she was laid gently on the couch, Conan could only watch with concern as Sherlock and Watson stood with him. Amazingly, he had started to feel better. Watson had scanned his body and presumed that antidote must have caused his immune system to work harder and cleansed the body of all foreign substances.

Nothing was said for a long time as they waited for the stun beam to wear off. Finally she began to stir and Conan held his breath and waited. Rachael groaned slightly at the headache she had acquired and looked over her shoulder and saw him. She slowly focused her eyes on his face and said...

"Conan?"

The Little Detective held his breath and was about to nod, when her expression frowned and she remembered the events in the Tarrington residence. Rachael shook her head and reached out to grasp him by the shoulders. Tears started to well up in her eyes.

"No... you're not Conan! It's all a lie! You've been lying to me all this time, Jimmy Kudo!"

Conan could only bow down his head in sadness as Sherlock and Watson looked on.

"I suppose that that there is no possibility to convince Miss Moore that this had all been a dream, is there?" Watson asked of Holmes.

"Indeed Watson. The thought had crossed my mind." The legendary detective then addressed his protégé. "I shall leave the explanations entirely up to you... Jimmy. Perhaps some time alone with Miss Moore is in order?"

Conan nodded wordlessly as his eyes locked with Rachael's.

* * *

Some time later...

"Are you certain that it is wise to leave them alone, Holmes?" Watson asked as he and Holmes walked down the streets. "Young Conan has often told us of Miss Moore's tendency to take extreme measures when angered. She may hurt your disciple with her karate."

"Of that, I am certain that harming my pupil is the least on her mind. I believe that my student will be able to keep her calm enough and he is a good judge of character." Sherlock replied.

He then noticed that a large crowd was gathering around a fishing store and that there were a few officers already on the scene. He smiled as he also noted another familiar face. Harley Hartwell was pushing his way through the crowds. "Speaking of characters, I believe that we shall have another opportunity to see a certain character in action. I do hope that he will put the advice I gave to him to use. Come Watson."

The crowds continue to gather around the store as Holmes and Watson made their way through the throngs of people. When they got to the front door, they came behind Harley as he was arguing with a police officer to allow him to pass.

"Aw c'mon! I can help crack this case! Just let me through!" Hartwell protested, but the officer was adamant in keeping others out.

"I'm sorry but Inspector McGuire wants everyone to stay out of the crime scene. There's been a brutal murder."

"All the more reason to allow us admittance." Sherlock said, surprising Harley who turned around.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"_HOLMES?!_" McGuire cried out as he heard the name from within the store. He then called out to the officer. "Let him in, Sagata!"

The officer was similarly awestruck as he looked upon the detective with new respect. He immediately stepped aside. "Go on in, Mr. Holmes!"

Sherlock nodded as he motioned for Watson and Harley to follow.

* * *

"Quite a day, eh Sherlock?" McGuire commented as he stood at the crime scene. "You and Kudo solved the Tarrington murder case this afternoon and now, here you are with another homicide." He then noticed the Detective of the West. "Oh, Hartwell. You still here? Tagging along with Holmes, eh? Maybe you can learn a few things from him."

Normally, Harley would have taken offense at the suggestion that he needed to learn about being a detective, but after seeing Holmes in action, he smiled and said, "Yeah. Maybe I can pick up a few pointers."

Sherlock smiled as he addressed the promising sleuth. "Very well then, Mr. Hartwell. Let us begin with this case. Inspector McGuire, please tell us what you have found so far."

* * *

Conan remained silent as he and Rachael walked down the sidewalk and headed toward the park, which was incidentally near the amusement park where they had their first date. The Little Detective stopped near the fountain and looked up toward the tops of some trees. He nodded as he saw the Tropical Land Ferris Wheel.

"It was one of the scariest days of my life, Rachael. And I'm not talking about the murder on that roller coaster."

"What?" Rachael said as she was still in a bit of a daze over the fact that Conan was Jimmy. He had made no effort in denying that fact and had suggested that they go for a walk, while he explained.

"You remember, don't you? It was our first date. I couldn't stop talking about Sherlock Holmes, and then we got on the Mystery Ride. You held my hand. Then that murder happened right behind us..."

Richard's daughter shuddered at that memory, in which the killer had used her own necklace of pearls and piano wire to decapitate her former boyfriend. "Yes, I remember. It wasn't something I'd easily forget, though I wish I did. Then you ran off to go check up on something. It was then I felt some strange feeling... like I was never going to see you again." Rachael choked up a bit, then asked the diminutive sleuth, "What happened to you Jimmy?"

"I... should have stayed with you, Rachael." Conan said a quiet and sad voice. "If I had, then this wouldn't have happened to me." He held up his hands and stared down at the palms. He let them fall down top his sides. "But no, I had to satisfy my detective's itch. I just had to know what those two men in black were up to."

"Men in black?"

"You remember those two shady guys who sat in the back of the roller coaster? Well, when I went to check them out, I saw one of them dealing with another guy in some extortion deal. I was so eager to find out what was going on, that I got blindsided by the other man in black. I was knocked silly and they were about to shoot me, but they decided to use some kind of experimental poison on me instead. They left me for dead and... I thought that I was going to die... without telling you how I felt about you..."

Rachael's heart skipped a beat as she remembered back to that time in the Tarrington home. Did Jimmy actually mean it when he said that he loved her? Her body trembled a bit as Conan continued.

"When I came to, I found myself in this body. That poison didn't kill me... it shrunk me into a kid. At first, I didn't believe it, but it was true. The only person I could get to believe me at the time was Dr. Agasa."

"But why didn't tell me, Jimmy? Why did you keep it a secret from me for so long?" Rachael demanded, as tears started to appear in her eyes.

Conan shook his head while keeping it bowed down. "Would you have believed me? And besides, if those men in black found out that their poison didn't work, then they would have been after me again to finish the job. I would have put you in danger, so Dr. Agasa concocted that story about me being a distant relative of his. I couldn't tell anyone, not even you, and it really hurt for me to keep deceiving you like that. The last thing I wanted to see was you crying."

"Oh... Jimmy..."

* * *

Meanwhile at the fishing store...

"The victim's name was Harry Sankata, age 56." McGuire said as he stood over the body of the deceased. "He's the owner of this store and it looks like he died when the killer used a knife to slash his throat. You can see the murder weapon over there." He pointed to a small, blood-stained knife with a serrated edge. "Looks like he was a victim of a robbery. As you can see, the register had been emptied out and all the money is missing. We also have the surveillance footage of the robber as he confronted the store owner and demanded that he open the register. When Sankata refused, the robber got behind him, slit his throat and killed him, judging by the angle of the cut. Then went around the counter, had the cashier open the register, cleaned it out, then made his getaway."

"That sounds about what I would have thought." Harley admitted as he watched Kudo's mentor go into action.

Sherlock looked about the area around the counter, then knelt down and gazed at the body and its position, particularly at the gash at the neck. Then he took a gander at the supposed murder weapon lying nearby with his magnifying glass. He shook his head and look up at McGuire and Harley. "Inspector, though I do respect your ability to logically piece together the crime from all the available clues, but I am afraid that I must disagree with you on several points. For one thing, this knife is _NOT_ the murder weapon."

"What?! But Sankata's blood is on the blade and it's the only thing that could have made that kind of cut!" McGuire protested. "Also, we've got video evidence and..."

"Ah, you are making an assumption and did I not say before that one should never base one's theory on an assumption?"

Harley let off a chuckle as he nodded. "Heh, I learned that lesson at the Tarrington home." He knelt down beside Holmes and asked for his magnifying glass. When he looked through the instrument, he gasped as he saw what Holmes had seen. "Whoa. I wouldn't have noticed this until you pointed it out. Holmes is right, Inspector. That knife couldn't have been the murder weapon."

"What do you mean?" McGuire queried.

"Watson, would you please have look here?" Sherlock asked as he pointed to the neck of the victim. "As a doctor, wouldn't you say that this cut is rather odd?"

Watson knelt down with the two detectives and used the scanners in his optics to look at the gash. He nodded. "Indeed, it is strange. The cut is smooth and even, not at all what one would expect from the serrated edge of the knife. The length of the gash is nearly from ear to ear. And width is much smaller than one would think. The depth is also puzzling, given that the knife's blade is only half an inch wide at the most. However, there is considerable trauma to the windpipe, esophagus and larynx. That's a lot of connective tissue to cut through and I doubt that small knife could have caused that much damage. Furthermore, upon examining the blood spatter on the knife's blade, I find it most peculiar. It doesn't match what one would expect a blade when it cuts across flesh. It's almost as if it were dipped in blood."

"Excellent assessment, my dear Watson." Sherlock praised, as he and everyone else stood up and faced McGuire. "I believe that is all we can learn from the late Mr. Sankata. You may have the coroners remove the body. Now then, were there any witnesses at the time of the crime?"

"Only the cashier Tim Sanoka. He's pretty shaken up over seeing his boss killed right in front of him." McGuire gestured to a young, muscular man who wore a short-sleeved shirt.

"May we see the surveillance video?"

* * *

Meanwhile...

"So you were the reason why Dad was able to solve all those cases." Rachael said

Conan nodded. "Yeah, I figured out the clues and when I solved the case..."

"You used that bowtie device to impersonate Dad's voice." Rachael cut in.

"How did you know about that?"

"I found it when I took off your coat in the Tarrington home after you had collapsed from the fever. I always had a little suspicion about you from time to time, but I usually dismissed it. When you left our home, Dad started to lose his ability to figure things out." She then knelt down in front of him and grasped both of Conan's shoulders. She managed not to cry as she said to him, "Why Jimmy? Why did you keep on lying to us, to me? Didn't you trust me? I thought you cared about me... You... said... you said that you loved me!"

Conan bowed down his head sadly, then replied quietly. "I do love you Rachael. I think I've loved you all my life. But put yourself in my shoes. What would _YOU_ have done if this had happened to you? I had no choice. I couldn't tell anyone, not even you. If those men found out that their poison didn't work, they would have come back to finish the job. And there was a good chance that your father, my family, my friends... and especially you would have been put in danger. So I kept up the lie... to keep you safe."

"You lied... to keep me safe?" A tear rolled down her cheek.

"It hurt Rachael. It hurt me so much to see you cry when Jimmy... I wasn't there when you needed me. I wanted to talk to you in my real body, with my real voice, and not over the phone with my bowtie. But that was the best I could do. When Watson came up with a temporary antidote to return me to normal, I jumped at the chance. It didn't matter to me that the drug was experimental and could be dangerous. I took the risk because I wanted to see you as Jimmy Kudo, and not as Conan Edogawa. I wanted to hold you in my arms and never let go. I would have done anything and everything... just to see you happy, because... I love you Rachael. And I don't want any more secrets to be between us. The price is just too high."

"Oh... Jimmy!" Rachael felt that she was about to let loose with a waterfall of tears.

Conan turned around and looked away so that she would not see the tears welling up in his own eyes. He let off a tired sigh and gazed upon the setting sun. "Well, I guess that's it, Rachael. There's nothing else I can say. It's up to you. I'm finished with the lies and I can't give you anything else. If you want to leave... I'll understand. I can't expect you to wait for me to grow up again and... _URK!_"

The Little Detective was suddenly swept up from behind in an embrace that threatened to crush his diminutive form. Rachael wept over his right shoulder as she sobbed...

"You dummy! Dummy! Dummy! Dummy! _OF COURSE, I'D WAIT FOR YOU! I LOVE YOU, YOU MYSTERY-CRAZY MORON!_"

Conan, or rather Jimmy, found himself at a loss for words as Rachael continued to hold him and cry.

* * *

Back at the fishing store...

After the body had been taken away, the detectives, the police officers and all those involved stood near the monitor.

"Here it is." McGuire said as he showed Harley, Watson and Holmes the footage. The scene depicted a figure approaching the counter. In front of the counter was Mr. Sankata. The robber was wearing a mask and was brandishing the knife. The store manager began arguing with the robber, while shaking his head. It was then that the robber lunged at the manager and they both went off scene. A ruckus was heard and objects were tossed about. Then a strange gurgling sound was heard and a moment later, Mr. Sankata's body fell forward and blood began to pool around the floor. A shout was heard, which was obviously coming from the cashier. Then the camera caught sight of robber opening the cash register, took the entire drawer and ran for the door. Then the camera showed the cashier calling for the police, before checking on the body.

"Enough." Sherlock said as he addressed Harley. "Mr. Hartwell, did you use your eyes and your brains? What exactly was wrong with all of that?"

The Great Detective of the West felt the pressure as he rewound the tape and looked it over again. He then began to realize what Holmes was implying. "No, it's all wrong! The manager's body fell forward. If the robber held him from behind and slit his throat at that position, then he would have either fallen forward out of camera range, or backward into the camera's sight!"

"Come again?" McGuire asked.

"It's like this." Harley said as he moved McGuire to stand in front of the counter. "Now the initial investigation implied that the victim throat was cut from behind, judging by the angle. If that's the case, then the robber would have had to have turned the victim around like this." He then turned McGuire around so that now he was facing the counter. Harley then held up his right hand near McGuire's throat as if he was holding a knife. "After he slit the throat, he would have stepped to the side and let the body collapse. See how the body would have landed?"

McGuire looked up at the overhead surveillance camera then nodded. "I get it. The victim would have fallen backward. But since he had been backed toward the counter by the robber, like the camera showed, then that would have been impossible. But the investigations did show that the angle of the cut had been caused by a fierce slashing motion of a sharp object, which could have only been caused by a blade being pressed against the flesh, like having your throat slit from behind. Your explanation eliminates the robber as the killer. How do you explain that?"

"Are you _CERTAIN_ that a cut from behind with a blade is the _ONLY_ method to slash one's throat, Inspector?" Sherlock stressed.

"Well, it's the only plausible way in this scenario. Another way is to use a garrote."

"What's a garrote?" One of the officers asked. He was one of the new rookies on the force.

"A really nasty piece of equipment, sometimes a weapon of choice for assassins." McGuire replied. "Moore was almost a victim of it when one of his old enemies hired a hitwoman to kill him. Basically, it's just a length of piano wire with a ring at both ends for holding. The killer loops it around the target's neck from behind, then pulls hard on both ends. The wire cuts through the flesh and even the victim's windpipe. If the victim doesn't die from blood loss, then he can still expire from strangulation and..." His voice trailed off as his face became pale. He then turned to Sherlock. "Wait a minute, Holmes. Is this what you meant when you said that knife wasn't the murder weapon? Are you trying to say that Sankata was killed by a garrote?" He then had another thought. "Hey, those sounds we heard before... those were the sounds of Mr. Sankata being strangled, weren't they?"

"Indeed." The legendary detective nodded. "As Watson had stated before, the edges of the wound in Sankata's throat were too smooth to have been made by the serrated edge of the knife. And the wound stretched evenly from ear to ear and had even cut into the man's windpipe. Only a thin length of wire could do such damage in such a short amount of time. Yes, the assessment that the victim's throat had been slashed from behind was correct, but it was done with a completely different murder weapon. The knife was but a ruse to keep the police from realizing who Sankata's true murderer was..." He then turned to the cashier, which made him begin to sweat. "Wouldn't you agree... Mr. Sanoka?"

The cashier began to frantically waving his hands. "W-What?! Are you accusing me of being the murderer? That's insane! You all saw the camera footage! I was nowhere near the boss when that robber killed him! I'm the one who called the police! I can't be guilty! It's impossible!"

Harley chuckled again as he gave the cashier a smug look. "Heh. You should know that when you've eliminated the impossible, whatever's left, no matter how improbable it may seem, must be the truth!" He glanced over his shoulder and gave Holmes a knowing grin. "Isn't that right, Mr. Holmes?"

"Bravo, Mr. Hartwell! Very good! You have learned your lessons well! Please, by all means, continue!"

The Detective of the West smiled as he directed his gaze back at the cashier, while pointing at the counter. "The surveillance footage showed that Mr. Sankata was backed against the counter, and that he fell forward after his throat was cut from behind. And the only person who was behind him at the time was you! Judging by the muscles on your arms, I'd say that it would have been no problem to have reached over the counter, looped the garrote around his neck and pulled back. Since you were positioned in a place that the camera wasn't watching, you were safe from being caught on tape."

"Ha! That's ridiculous! Where's your evidence?" The cashier sneered as sweat continued to trickle down his temple.

Harley gritted his teeth a bit as he still didn't have that one final piece to make it all stick. Fortunately for him, Holmes had just what he needed as he stepped forward and walked around the counter toward the cash register.

"I am most impressed with your work so far in this investigation, Mr. Hartwell. Allow me to write the final passage to this tale." He then gestured to McGuire to join him. "Now then, Inspector McGuire... Mr. Sanoka demands that we produce proof of his guilt. Would the true murder weapon be sufficient?"

The Inspector nodded. "Hell yes! But if what you said about how the victim died is true, then where's the garrote?"

Sherlock smiled as he directed the Inspector attention to the floor, particularly to a small, rubber mat and a certain stain. "What do you make of that, Inspector?"

"Huh?" McGuire bent down and looked at the stain. "Blood? What's that doing here... wait a second! If blood is here then..."

Holmes nodded. "That is irrefutable proof that the killer had murdered the store owner from behind the counter at this spot, as Mr. Hartwell and I had surmised. Now then, don't you find that stain to be a little strange? Take a good look at its position."

"Yeah, you're right. This stain is both on the mat and the floor tile, but it doesn't match. Which means that this mat's been moved..." He reached out with a hand and carefully lifted the mat to reveal something hidden underneath. He let off a gasp as he used a handkerchief to pick up a length of wire with two small, hard rubber handles tied to the ends.

"And there is your murder weapon, Inspector." Sherlock said triumphantly as he gazed back at the cashier, who was now trembling uncontrollably and sweating hard. The detective continued to speak to McGuire. "A garrote is quite easy to fashion, especially in a fishing store. High-strength fishing line will do just as well as piano wire, and the grips from a pair of fishing reels would be sufficient to hold the line taught. You will note that there is blood on the wire, which would most surely match that of the victim's. And if you were to dust for fingerprints, I am quite certain that you will find that they belong to Mr. Sanoka. This so-called robbery was but an elaborate ruse to cover a much more foul deed. The bloodstained knife was but a decoy. It was purposely stained in the store owner's blood after he was killed to throw the police off the trail. The robbery, the camera footage... it was all a scheme to make it look like one person was the killer, while the true culprit got away with this terrible act."

At this point, the cashier bowed his head in shame as he sank to his knees.

* * *

After Tim Sanoka confessed to the crime, it was later learned that he had planned the murder after Sankata had promoted another associate over Tim to become the head manager of another store. This meant that another person would get a huge raise. Sanoka had become jealous over his rival, and had blamed his boss for favoritism.

"That was really amazing, Mr. Holmes!" Harley remarked as he, Sherlock and Watson walked down the street. "I don't think Jimmy Kudo or I could have done better!"

"Tut, tut, Mr. Hartwell. I merely used my eyes and my brains, just as you and Kudo are quite capable of doing." Holmes said simply. "You do have some considerable skills and you will go far, provided that you do not let your ego get in the way of being a proper detective."

"Yeah, well I got to admit, I'm really jealous that Conan kid and Kudo get to rub elbows with you. You're really good! Sherlock Holmes may just be a fictional character, but you definitely got what it takes to be him!"

"Hmm, I am not too certain how to take that compliment, but I will take it anyway. Good day to you, Mr. Hartwell. Perhaps we shall have the pleasure of working together on another case."

Harley watched as Sherlock and Watson headed off into the horizon and let off a low whistle. There was just something about him that made Harley want to believe that the fictional creation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had come to life. Sherlock was every bit as cool as one would expect him to be. And to think that Jimmy Kudo was taking lessons from him! Even that Conan kid was gaining a reputation.

Hartwell continued to ponder as the sun was almost touching the horizon. Then finally, as the last rays of daylight started to fade away, he made a decision...

* * *

Later, at the home of Sherlock Holmes and Watson...

"Wow. So you're really _ARE_ Sherlock Holmes? And you and Watson are both from the 22nd Century?"

After Rachael had been told the truth about Sherlock and Watson, she promised to keep the secret and also to not tell about Conan's true identity. She was then invited to stay over, and she and Conan talked late into night, catching up on things.

For the first time in a long while, Conan could act as himself in front of Rachael.

* * *

Three days later...

Watson held up a capsule. "Here it is, Jimmy. I have refined the formula and if it works, you should be able to regain your real body for a longer period of time. However, you must keep in mind that once this drug wears off, then you cannot take it again for three days, until your metabolism realigns itself."

"How long will it last?" Conan asked as he was dressed in a pair of stretchable boxers. Behind him, Rachael nodded in expectation. She couldn't wait for Jimmy to return.

"The effect should last for five hours if my calculations are correct. I don't dare make the dosage any stronger, or it might put a strain on your heart."

"I suggest that you bring a spare set of clothes with you, my protégé." Sherlock said as he nodded to him. "Good luck."

Conan took a deep breath, then took the offered pill. He swallowed it and waited for the formula to take effect. His body began to tremble and spasm as he felt his bones expand. He hunched over as his cells started to grow and mature. It was like watching a time-frame sequence of a boy becoming a man as Rachael held her breath. Then finally, after a long and agonizing moment, Jimmy Kudo stood up. (1)

"_JIMMY!_"

Rachael flew into his arms and the two kissed deeply as Watson and Sherlock nodded and smiled.

* * *

A few minutes later...

The couple left the premises arm-in-arm as Sherlock waved to them.

"See you in five hours. Have fun you two."

The legendary detective then sat at his desk, and was about to look over the files to his latest cases, when there was a knock at the door. He nodded to Watson to answer it.

He was quite surprised when Harley Hartwell came in.

"Mr. Hartwell. How very nice to see you again."

The Detective of the West nodded as he asked, "Hey, was that Jimmy Kudo I saw back there with Rachael Moore?"

Holmes nodded. "Indeed. My protégé had decided to take Miss Moore on an outing. After all the fine work he has done in his cases, I believe that giving him some time off is in order."

"Hey, where's your junior partner, that Conan kid?"

"My other associate is also out for the day. Now then, what brings you here, Mr. Hartwell? I had thought you had returned to Osaka."

"I did, but then I decided to come back."

"Oh? And for what reason? Are you on another case?"

Harley became a bit edgy as he stepped slightly from side-to-side. He paused for a bit to find his voice, then finally said, "Mr. Holmes, you are the _BEST_, I mean the _BEST_ detective I ever met!"

"I thank you for the compliment, but I surmise that there is a point to all of this flattery."

"Uh... yeah. I mean... I can tell that Kudo and Edogawa have learned a lot from you, and... well... I was hoping that maybe... you can teach me some stuff too."

"Pardon?"

Harley swallowed hard, then bowed deeply to Sherlock. "Please, Mr. Holmes... I want to be your student!"

For the first time in his detective career, Sherlock Holmes found himself at a loss of what to do...

To be continued...

Author's notes

Whew! That was a long one, and now that Harley Hartwell wants in, things are only going to get more interesting. I think I handled the Rachael finding out Conan's secret bit pretty well. In any case, next chapter, the Detective of the West is going to try and convince Sherlock to take him on as a disciple, and we're finally going to hear from Sherlock's world in the 22nd Century as Moriarty begins to stir up trouble since the disappearance of this arch-nemesis. See you there!

(1) I figured that a drug made by Watson would work better than Harley's Chinese Wine cure. Plus having Conan being able to become Jimmy more often would have some interesting possibilities.


End file.
